


Before the Darkness

by ladymac111



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, First Kiss, First Time, I took some liberties with history, M/M, Romance, Secret Identity, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers, Tragic Hero, Tragic Romance, ignoring aspects of canon where it suits me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/ladymac111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Harrison sat on his new bed, in his new flat, in the middle of the same old London that was no longer quite so old.  A glossy computer terminal sat on the desk in the corner, and his Fleet-issued communicator was next to the digital alarm clock on his bedside table.  He stared at them for a long minute.  He'd been in this century barely ten weeks, and he'd adjusted well, but in the quiet moments the pace of modern humanity threatened to overwhelm him.</p><p>He was crushingly lonely.</p><p>Except he wasn't truly alone, was he?  Paul was downstairs in the kitchen, making tea and heating up dinner for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harrison

**Author's Note:**

> CHARACTER CLARIFICATION  
> John Harrison is the "Sherlock" in this story. The (giant) gaps in his character have been mostly filled by Sherlock-y traits.  
> Paul Watson is the "John Watson" in this story. I wish I hadn't had to change his first name, but so it goes.
> 
> Re-naming John Watson was the biggest technical difficulty in the beginning. I decided to go with a Beatles theme, and his name in this story is Paul Watson. I apologize in advance for confusion over which one is John.
> 
> I began writing this after my first viewing of the film, and some fairly extensive discussions online. I see Harrison as a sort of tragic hero, with a specific character trait that will be his emotional undoing over the course of the story. He will be portrayed sympathetically.
> 
> This is an exploration of the transformation from John Harrison, a uniquely powerful man out of time, into Khan Noonien Singh, a ruthless vigilante who will stop at nothing to achieve his goal.

2258.56

John stared at the doorbell for a long minute before he pressed it. The building in front of him was in an area of London that hadn't changed all that much since the last time he was here. There were still bricks and stone and wrought iron, and those things comforted him in a city that now gleamed with technology that, while he understood it and could use it almost naturally, still felt foreign and a bit frightening.

He took a steadying breath. What did he have to be afraid of? He knew, logically, that nothing in this city – nothing on this _planet_ – could hurt him. And he was doing something so mundane, even a normal person would be safe.

He rang the buzzer.

The intercom clicked on. “Hello?”

“Yes, hello, I'm here about the flat share?”

“Oh, excellent! Hang on, I'll be right down.”

John stepped back from the door, and about thirty seconds later it opened, revealing a shortish man with sandy hair and deep blue eyes. He stuck out his hand. “Hi. Paul Watson.”

“John Harrison.”

They shook, and then released. Paul gave John an odd look, but ushered him inside. “Come in, please. The flat's upstairs, on the first floor, and the additional bedroom is on the second.”

John pushed the door shut behind them (a real wooden door!) and followed the other man up the steps. “Who lives on the ground floor?”

“My landlady, Mrs Hudson,” Paul said. “She's out at the moment, but she should be back later this afternoon, if you'd like to stay that long.” He opened the door at the top of the steps into a cosy sitting room. “Feel free to have a look around. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

John watched as Paul went into the kitchen, which was small but tidily kept, and put the kettle on. “No food replicator?”

Paul looked up with a smile. “No, not in an old place like this. They're bloody expensive, too. I prefer to cook for myself anyway.”

“How old is the building?”

“Hard to say exactly, though I think Mrs Hudson might know. I'd say probably late 19th Century? Though of course there have been extensive renovations over the years. It's fully modern in all the important ways.”

“Sonic shower?”

Paul gestured with an elbow as he got out tea bags. “Bathroom's over there, by my bedroom. We've got a sonic and a bathtub, though to be honest I don't use it much. Too busy.”

John looked into the bathroom – small, but modern, no obvious problems. “I'm not a fan of sonics myself.” He indulged his curiosity by sneaking a glance into Paul's bedroom, which was as neat and boring as the rest of the flat, then came back into the kitchen. “It's a nice place.”

Paul nodded. “Great location, too. You said in your email you're with Starfleet?”

“Yes, intelligence and defence.”

“Is that why you use a pseudonym, then?”

John was struck speechless for a moment, but composed himself. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Paul chuckled and turned back to the kettle as it boiled. “It's fine, it's fine. Your background check that Mrs Hudson ran turned up clear. Commander John Harrison, very impressive. With a rank like that I expected you to be older. But I could tell when you introduced yourself you haven't been using the name for very long.”

John blinked at him. “I didn't realize it was so … obvious.”

“It's not obvious, don't worry.” Paul handed him a steaming mug. “It's just I'm a cop, so it's sort of my business to be able to notice those sorts of things. Little lies. Milk? Sugar?”

“Um, no, thank you.” John sipped the tea awkwardly; it was still weak and far too hot. It scalded his palate briefly before he set it on the corner of the table. “So you're with the police?”

“Detective Inspector Paul H Watson, at your service.”

John crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “And the H stands for?”

Paul gave him a lopsided smile. “Hamish. I'm glad Mum overruled Dad and made it my middle name.”

“And you're a successful police inspector. So why are you looking for a flatmate?”

Paul shrugged as he sat at the kitchen table, and motioned for John to join him. “I don't really like living alone. Prefer to at least have someone around, you know? It's good to have someone to come home to, even if it's just a flatmate. Keeps me from getting too caught up in work. How about you, then? Starfleet doesn't have a place for you?”

“They offered, but I declined,” John said. “They'd have wanted to put me up in San Francisco, anyway, and I prefer London. I'll have to commute occasionally but it's not bad, if you ignore the time difference.”

“I suppose in your line of work, whether the sun is out doesn't matter much.”

John let himself smile a little as he relaxed into the chair. “No, not very much.”

“So where were you before?”

“Off-planet.” He took a sip of his tea, which was about right. Hopefully it hid the fact that this wasn't the whole truth, though Paul would naturally chalk it up to the classified nature of his work. “Deep space sort of thing. I didn't much like it, though. It's good to have the Earth under my feet again.”

“I know the feeling. My sister's an engineer at the new shipyard at Utopia Planitia. She loves working in space, but every time I visit her I can't wait to get dirt under my boots again.”

“There's something about Earth, isn't there?”

“Mm, definitely.”

They chatted easily as they finished their tea, and then Paul showed John the room upstairs, which was surprisingly spacious and comfortably furnished with the basics. “So what do you think?”

“I think this could work,” John said, going to the window and looking down at the street, then up at the skyline in the distance. “Officially I'm in my temporary housing until the end of the week, but if it's all right with you, I'll probably start moving tomorrow.”

“Fine by me,” Paul said with a broad smile. “And if you need extra storage space, there's a basement unit that's unoccupied. Mrs Hudson and I both have some stuff down there.”

“Thanks, though I don't think I'll be needing it. Haven't accumulated very many belongings.”

“Right, being in space. I imagine you wouldn't.”

They heard the muffled sound of the street door opening and closing again, and Paul glanced towards the stairs. “That'll be Mrs Hudson. Come on, I'll introduce you.”


	2. Brave New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had to try to figure out what sort of crime would exist in London in the 23rd Century. Let me know if you have suggestions or critiques! In Roddenberry's ideal, I'm sure there was no crime (just like there was no money) but 1) I don't think that's realistic and 2) it makes the story more difficult to tell.

2258.59

John sat on his new bed, in his new flat, in the middle of the same old London that was no longer quite so old. A glossy computer terminal sat on the desk in the corner, and his Fleet-issued communicator was next to the digital alarm clock on his bedside table. He stared at them for a long minute. He'd been in this century barely ten weeks, and he'd adjusted well, but in the quiet moments the pace of modern humanity threatened to overwhelm him. He almost wondered if he preferred the paranoid but slower-paced 1960s that he'd last known, in a time before humans were ceaselessly connected, not only to each other, but to the people of worlds he'd never even dreamed of.

He was crushingly lonely.

Except he wasn't truly alone, was he? Paul was downstairs in the kitchen, making tea and heating up dinner for the both of them, which they would eat on the couch while watching the latest Bond film. Last he'd been in London, just before he was frozen, he'd seen Sean Connery in “Goldfinger.” Hard to believe James Bond was still alive.

His new flatmate, Paul, was a straightforward, trusting man. A man who, despite being straightforward and trusting, promised hidden depths. A man who knew that John had a very big secret, but didn't seem to mind. John had known a man much like him back in the 1950s, when he was still young, just being ushered into his destiny. The man was a doctor with the international coalition that had created him and the eighty-three others, and John had been charmed by him and returned the favour before the doctor was reassigned. It was no big loss to John, though he still remembered that time fondly, the coming together and strong bonding of all of them to one another, the Augments, the epitome of what it was to be human, who would usher in a new era of peace in a world torn apart by the threat of mutually assured destruction. That had been the plan, at any rate.

John took one last look at the photograph in his hand, then slipped it back inside the slim album and locked it in the bottom drawer of the desk. He didn't need to see the faces of his sleeping family to remember them, to remember his purpose, the promises and threats made to him.

On his way down the stairs he could smell the food Paul was preparing, rich with spices he didn't recognize. “What are you making?”

“Andorian curry. You must not have had it before, the ice ginger has a very distinct flavour. It's hard to find, but it's worth it.”

John eyed the pan warily. He recognized most of the vegetables, but the dish had a blue tinge to it that made him uneasy.

Paul dished up two bowls of rice with the curry on top, then opened a bottle of a blue liquid and arranged himself at one end of the couch. John sat carefully at the other end with a glass of water.

Paul lifted his drink. “Cheers.”

John clinked his glass against it. “To new beginnings.”

Paul smiled and took a sip. “I'm off work tomorrow, and in between cases. Do you want to do something? If you're not busy, that is.”

“No, I'm not busy tomorrow. What did you have in mind?”

Paul shrugged and chewed his food. “Dunno. Something low-key. Zoo, maybe? The weather's supposed to be pleasant.”

John favoured him with a smile. “The zoo would be nice.” He took a tentative bite of the curry, and raised his eyebrows. “This is really good.”

Paul grinned at him. “You wouldn't think so, from the colour, would you? It goes great with Andorian ale, too. Want one?”

“No, thank you. I'll stick with water.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned on the entertainment centre on the other side of the room. “Ready for the movie?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

“I suppose, working in intelligence, you don't get quite the thrill from Bond flicks that the rest of us do.”

“James Bond's variety of adventure is ninety percent fiction. My work doesn't resemble his in the least.”

“Well, then you're in luck, I guess.”

John smiled a little, and put his feet up on the coffee table. “I guess so.”

 

2258.60

John wasn't sure what to expect from the London Zoo in this century, and it was nothing at all like he remembered. For one thing, none of the animals were actually there.

He tried not to show his surprise and quickly read the brochure he picked up, which said that the Zoo had completed its upgrade to holographic exhibits in 2187, and all the animals were filmed discreetly in their natural habitats. So really it was hardly a zoo at all, more like an open-air museum. But it was an engaging experience, even though he suffered a little cognitive dissonance whenever one walked through the edge of the projection and disappeared.

Paul led them through the zoo, starting with the animals of Earth and progressing through the other planets' contributions in the order in which they had joined the Federation. They paused at the Andorian bull, and Paul chuckled at it. “This one's pre-recorded.”

“How can you tell?”

“I've seen it before. Also this was taken during a heat wave a couple years back, it's too cold for them to go out to the surface right now.”

They took lunch at a fast food restaurant across from the large Lake Yuron exhibit.

“I'm glad they have this one open again.”

“Oh?”

“It was closed for quite a while after the Genocide. Can't say I blame them, but it's so beautiful. It's a wonderful memorial of the planet.”

John stared out at the vista for a while. “Did any native animals survive?”

“Only a few, that were already on other worlds with colonists. They've been pretty successful with breeding programs, but most of the species on New Vulcan are native to that planet.”

“That makes sense, I suppose. How do you know so much about it?”

“I have an interest in zoology. I thought about studying it, for a while.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Oh, lots of things. Boring things, mostly.”

John's communicator chirped in his pocket, and he fished it out and scanned the text message quickly. “Damn.” He turned to Paul. “I'm so sorry, but I have to go.”

Paul sighed. “Duty calls, eh?”

“Quite literally.” John got up and made for the entrance. Paul was right behind him. “You can stay, if you want.”

“No, it's all right. It's less fun when you're alone.”

Twenty minutes later they were back at the flat, and John went upstairs to pack the few essentials for a week in … wherever it was Admiral Marcus decided to send him. The summons had said San Francisco, but he estimated it was equally likely that was a waypoint to a destination off-world.

Paul was standing awkwardly in the kitchen when he came back down. “Do you, um … do you know how long you'll be away?”

“Not long, I hope, though I never can tell.”

“Give me a call, sometime? It'll be lonely without you.”

John smiled fondly at him. “I've only been here two days.”

“That long already?” Paul chuckled. “It does feel like longer, doesn't it?”

“A bit, yeah.” John shouldered his bag. “Well, I'm off.”

Paul started to move towards him, but stopped short. “Yeah. Be safe.”

“I will.”

 

2258.71

“Hello!” Paul's voice rang out through the flat. “John? You home?”

John opened the bathroom door far enough to poke his head out. “You're home early.”

Paul came through to the kitchen and looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “And you're taking a bath in the middle of the afternoon. Will you be much longer? I'm all grimy.”

John gave him a little smile before he retreated back into the bathroom and shut the door. “A few more minutes,” he said, picking up his razor and regarding his jaw in the mirror. “Just have to shave.”

“Make it quick, will you? I fell in the Thames up to my hips an hour ago. I had some dry trousers in the car but I need to get properly clean.”

“I'm afraid I may have used up all the hot water.” That was one thing about space travel, he reflected. Water was in short supply, so they never let you take a bath.

“A sonic will do me just fine, but thanks.”

There was a prolonged pause, during which time John removed most of the stubble from his chin and upper lip.

Paul eventually broke the silence. “You busy tonight?”

“No, why?”

“I thought … well, I thought maybe we could go out. For dinner, that is.”

John put his razor away, dried his face, and made sure his towel was secure around his hips before he opened the door again. “Paul Watson, are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I … well, yes. Um. Maybe?” He blushed a little as John smirked at him from the doorway. “It's just you didn't call while you were in San Francisco, and we haven't had a chance to talk to each other since you got back. I thought it would be nice to catch up.”

“I'd love to.” John breezed past him towards the stairs. “Six?”

“Yeah, sure. Good.”

 

Paul made a reservation at his favourite Italian restaurant, and they arrived just a few minutes after six o'clock. The owner bustled out of the kitchen to greet them as they were being seated. “Paul Watson!” he boomed. “It's been a while, great to see you again!”

“Likewise,” Paul said, accepting his bear hug. “Angelo, this is my new flatmate John. John, Angelo. He's the owner here and does a bit of the cooking as well.”

John took the offered hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Angelo set down a pair of menus as they took their seats. “Why didn't you bring him around sooner, Paul? You know I love helping you out in the romance department. Least I can do.”

John focussed a bit too hard on the menu, and Paul sighed. “We're not a couple, Angelo. Just flatmates.”

“You said that pretty blonde woman wasn't your girlfriend, either.”

“She _wasn't_ my girlfriend. She was my sergeant and I brought her here to celebrate when she got promoted.”

“Whatever you say, mate.” Angelo clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me know if there's anything I can get for you tonight.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Angelo retreated into the kitchen, and then John spoke with forced nonchalance. “Pretty blonde woman?”

“Mary. I expect you'll meet her sooner or later, she's been bothering me that she wants to see the new place. We were partners until she got promoted to detective inspector last December, though we still work together a lot.”

“I see.”

Paul put the menu down and looked accusingly at John. “You're jealous!”

“Of course I'm not jealous! Why would I be jealous?”

Paul grinned. “You're the one who said this was a date.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Yes you did, don't lie.”

“Fine, but you're the one who asked me, so I expect you to pick up the bill.” He sat back and crossed his arms with a playful smirk.

Paul laughed. “No worries, Angelo rarely charges me anything, and never when he thinks I'm on a date." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "A few years ago he was a suspect in a particularly nasty assault and burglary case, but I managed to find evidence that he'd been framed. He hasn't let me forget it since.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“Oh, it was. Brilliant case. If you're interested I could show you the file sometime.”

“I'd like that.” John smiled warmly at him. “So what's good?”

“Depends what you like.”

They ordered, and Paul poured the wine as they waited for their pasta. “I hope this isn't too forward, but I think we know each other fairly well now, and, well, we're living together. And Angelo brought it up.”

John picked up his glass and swirled the wine delicately. “Spit it out.”

“Um … have you got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?”

“No on both.” John took a sip of wine as he decided how to proceed. “To be perfectly honest, I never have. Dating never was important to me.”

“Oh.” Paul seemed disappointed by that. “It seems like kind of a waste. You're so attractive, I mean. I'm sure you've left plenty of people pining.”

John gave him a look. “Are you objectifying me?”

“Oh, god! No, I didn't mean … sorry. I'm so sorry, I've really put my foot in it.”

“It's all right.” John brushed his knee against Paul's under the table. “I'm experimenting with manipulating your emotions, I'm sorry. You're proving a bit easier than I'd thought.”

“You're a bastard. But apology accepted.” He took a big mouthful of wine. “Go ahead, I know you want to ask.”

“Obviously you're not seeing anyone right now. But you've dated both genders in the past?”

Paul nodded. “More than 'both', actually. I've had casual things with a load of people, some of whom didn't quite sit on the gender binary. And a couple memorable aliens whose sexes aren't analogous to ours. When I have to use a label I say I'm pansexual, but in practice I like who I like and just go from there.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“How about you? You said you've never dated, but you must have some sort of preferences.”

“Attraction is a rare thing for me, honestly. It's happened a couple of times, twice with women and twice with men. Nothing came of it, though.”

“That's slightly depressing.”

“Not for me. As I said, it's not one of my priorities.” He stared into his wine for a long moment, and then glanced up at Paul and took a deep breath. “Let me … amend that statement, slightly. It _hasn't been_ one of my priorities.”

Paul leaned slightly forward as a gentle flush spread across his face. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

The pasta arrived before John could answer, and the moment was broken. The conversation turned to other topics as they ate and gradually finished the bottle of wine, though the promise and tension of the moment lingered. When they finally left they were feeling warm and comfortable, and walked back to their flat shoulder-to-shoulder, almost but not quite touching. They took off their coats and said good night, but John paused on the bottom step, with Paul watching from the sitting room.

“I had a nice time tonight. Thank you for dinner. And, well, everything.”

“I had a nice time too, thank _you_. I actually can't remember the last time I had an evening this pleasant.”

John smirked. “What about when you took Mary to celebrate her promotion?”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Don't go getting jealous again!”

“Just teasing, I promise.”

“You and your teasing. I suppose I should get used to it.”

“Would you like to have another crack at it tomorrow?”

“I … wait, what?”

“Tomorrow night. Do you … want to do this again?”

Paul stared at him for a moment, and then broke into a grin. “Yeah. That would be great. You'll pick the restaurant?”

“Of course. Six again?”

“Better make it seven, I've got a long shift and I'll need some time to get ready after.”

“All right.”

They watched each other for another long beat, until John turned back towards the stairs. “Well, good night.”

“Good night.”


	3. Here and Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, see up at the top where it says this fic is rated Explicit?
> 
> Yeah. Couple of new tags too, in case you need it spelled out before you start.
> 
> Based on some clicking around in Google, I'm fairly certain 121 Baker Street doesn't exist. But maybe it will in 2258. I wanted to leave 221 open so that Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character in this universe, and, as suggested in STXI, Spock is a descendant of ACD.

2258.73

 

For their date, John had inadvertently selected a restaurant that served primarily imported Rigellian seafood, to which Paul was allergic. They wound up strolling along the Thames and picking up delightfully greasy fish and chips, which John was pleased to find had barely changed in three hundred years. As the twilight deepened Paul had convinced him that they should go for a ride in the New Eye: “You know, I've lived here all my life, and I've never been.” Their car was full of couples, which John found awkward at first, until Paul gently nudged his shoulder into John's arm, and then they were holding hands as they slowly soared into the air above London, which sparkled as night fell over her.

It was after midnight when John and Paul finally returned to 121B Baker Street, both slightly tipsy from the too-noisy bar they'd just left, and giddy with the rush of a successful date – and it really _was_ a date, this time. Neither found he could hold still, so after they kicked off their shoes, Paul bustled into the kitchen while John paced the sitting room. “Should I make some tea? Or maybe something stronger?”

“Haven't you got some really old Scotch? I think that would be perfect.”

Paul grinned. “I should have known you'd find that. Forty years old, single malt.” He brought it out of a low cupboard, and produced two glasses into which he poured generously. “It's got the same birthday as me.”

Paul sat on the couch first, at the end closest to the window, and after a moment's hesitation John sat beside him. Paul tucked one of his feet up and laid a hand on John's knee. “I had a marvellous evening.”

“So did I.” He took a sip of the whisky. “Mmm, this is incredible.” He leaned slightly into Paul, who responded by wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “How do these things usually go?”

“How do what things go?”

He gestured vaguely. “ _This_. Dates. After you come home.”

“To be fair, this is a bit of an unusual situation. I've never dated someone I was already living with.”

John's deep chuckle resonated through them both. “Makes sense.”

“Though normally ...” He shifted John slightly, and in so doing settled the lanky body against his more compact frame. “Normally if I'd invited someone up for a drink, we'd end up a bit like this.”

“Hm. Then what?”

Paul's fingers toyed with the ends of John's hair, which was just long enough to begin to curl. “Well, that all depends. Typically when someone accepts that invitation, it means they're interested in … continuing the evening through to the morning.”

There was a long pause before John spoke again, softly. “Would you have already kissed them before that?”

“Oh. Well, usually, yes.” The silence held even longer this time. Finally Paul took a sip of whisky, then cleared his throat. “Was that you asking to be kissed?”

“If you'd oblige me.”

“You're just this side of infuriating, do you know that? Up you get.”

John sat up, and they both set their drinks on the table. John's pale eyes flickered uncertainly over Paul in the dim light. “I've never done this before.”

“I'd guessed. Don't worry, it's easy.”

Paul cupped John's cheek gently, and their eyes closed as they met in a warm press of lips.

John had known about kissing, of course. But knowing and doing were two very different things, and he hadn't imagined it would be like this. Paul's mouth was warm and slightly wet, as he'd expected, and also he smelled and tasted like peat and stout and chips, as well as something else he couldn't identify. But this last thing, whatever it was, woke up his limbic system and set aflame all the nerve endings in his body. His hands reached for Paul and pulled him close, and the other man made a startled-but-happy noise as they pressed together and deepened the kiss. Somehow their mouths both opened, only a bit at first, and then John's head was spinning, as if he couldn't get close enough to Paul, as if he wanted to merge into him through the force of their kiss.

Finally Paul pulled back, and his lips were swollen and glistening. “That was a hell of a first kiss.”

John found he was panting. “I'm a quick learner.”

“Clearly.” He picked up his glass and finished the whisky. “If we're going to continue I think we should consider making use of a bedroom.”

John looked at his drink, and decided to leave it. “I agree.”

As soon as they were on their feet they were kissing again, and Paul pushed John backwards through the kitchen and into the bedroom, then toppled him onto the bed and loomed over him. John gasped as Paul nipped at the sensitive skin behind his ear, then kissed tortuously slowly down his neck, pulling his collar out of the way as he went.

Paul sat back with a growl. “Damn shirts these days. Take that thing off, will you? I can't believe those are in fashion again. It makes it bloody hard to undress you.”

John stripped it off without ceremony. “Yours too.”

Paul obliged with a grin, and John shuffled so that he was fully on the bed. The touch of bare skin was every bit as wonderful as he'd hoped, and he felt his arousal growing and moaned into Paul's kiss.

“Jesus,” Paul whispered, catching John's full lower lip momentarily between his teeth. “I don't think I've ever been this turned on in my life.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” John gasped, pulling at his own trousers with one hand and Paul's with the other. Paul got the hint immediately, and in moments John had one long leg free and Paul's trousers were around his knees.

Paul stole a glance before he settled atop John. “You're absolutely gorgeous.”

John found he was unable to reply, and his world narrowed to the place where Paul's cock ( _hard, ready, beautiful, ohgodineedthis_ ) was pressed into his own between their bodies. He let out a little whine when Paul rocked against him.

“Too much?”

“Not enough,” he gasped. “Oh god, don't stop.”

That seemed to be exactly what Paul wanted to hear. He ducked his face into the side of John's neck, and John wrapped his free leg around the back of Paul's thighs. They rutted desperately, gasping. John reached orgasm first, an explosion of white-hot sensation that made his toes curl and his fingernails bite into Paul's back. He may have cried out, he wasn't certain, but he did feel Paul's teeth in the side of his neck soon thereafter as he came with a moan and a full-body shudder.

For a long while they simply lay there, still breathing hard on one another's skin. John eventually began to regain control of his muscles, and trailed the fingers of one hand from Paul's crown all the way to the small of his back. Paul twitched. “Ngh! Tickles.”

John chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Oof, let go, I've got to get up.” Paul peeled himself away and tried to stand, but the fabric bunched around his ankles made him stumble and he sat heavily on the bed. He took a moment to compose himself before attacking the problem methodically. “Well. That was fantastic.”

John raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Of course really. And you are – you _were_ – a virgin?”

“Why would I lie?”

“You never know.” He finally got his clothing all the way off, and tossed it into the corner. “And I know this is horribly cliché, but … I hope it was good for you too?”

John smiled blissfully at the ceiling as Paul staggered into the bathroom to clean up. “It was incredible.”

Moments later a warm, damp flannel landed on his shoulder. “At least wipe yourself off before you fall asleep. Spunk is fucking disgusting when it's crusty.”

John looked down at the mess on his belly, the chaos of their releases mixed so as to be indistinguishable. He thought idly about the juxtaposition of Paul's DNA with his own as he wiped it off his skin.

Paul returned a minute later and pressed a quick minty kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Go brush your teeth, if you want to sleep here.”

“Was that an invitation?”

“Quit asking me questions you already know the answers to.”

John got up with a satisfied smirk, then removed his trousers and brushed his teeth quickly before climbing back into bed with Paul, under the covers this time. They were both still naked, but if Paul didn't mind, he decided he wouldn't either. He shifted close, and Paul closed the remaining distance to give him a lingering kiss. “Good night.”

“Good night.”


	4. Becoming Us

John woke to sunlight coming around the curtains on the window, which was not where he expected it to be. He froze for a moment in panic before a soft noise to his left jostled his memory: He was in Paul's room, in Paul's bed, next to Paul, with whom he'd been intimate the night before.

An unfamiliar and unpleasant emotion swelled in his chest. A quick glance confirmed that Paul was still asleep, and John slipped very carefully out of the bed. He quickly gathered his clothing and silently closed the bedroom door before rushing upstairs and locking himself into his sanctuary.

The emotion hadn't gone away, though. He pulled on clean underpants and wrapped himself tightly in his bathrobe before sitting at the computer terminal and beginning to type.

_Personal log, stardate 2258.73._

_I'm afraid I've done something very, very stupid._

_I went on a date with Paul last night. That was my first mistake, really, letting our outings become dates. It seemed to happen so gradually, by the time we were holding hands while we floated above the city in a glass bubble it felt like the obvious thing to do. And then we had drinks, and came home and had another drink. After that asking him to kiss me seemed totally reasonable, and one thing led naturally to another until we were naked in his bed, and we had sex and fell asleep together._

_I only just woke up, and I escaped up to my room without disturbing him. Now that my mind is clear, I can't believe I let it go that far. It's not the physical intimacy that's the problem, really, but the emotional intimacy. If it were only sex, things would be different. I know Paul's had lots of partners, but I also know Paul, and I can tell that this wasn't a fling to him. This is the result of the something between us that's been building for the last seventeen days._

_God, it's only been seventeen days since we met. I've only lived here two weeks, and now I've gone and slept with him and it's going to change things between us in a way that I can't allow. If we keep going this is going to become an actual relationship, a romantic relationship, which I simply don't have the time for. I have far too much work to do for Admiral Marcus. I need to devote myself to keeping him pleased so he won't make good on his threats to hurt the others. Or wake them. I'm not sure if he knows that's an option but I have to make sure he doesn't find out._

_And if I did start something with Paul – scratch that. I've already started something. I have to back out now. If I don't, Paul becomes a liability, another pawn for Marcus to manipulate to make me do what he wants. Another string for him to pull to make me dance. I can't let him have that, and I can't let Paul become caught in this._

_Oh, god. It's too late for me. I already care about Paul too much. Even if to him, last night was just casual sex between friends, my regard for him has gone beyond that. When did that even happen? It might have been that first time we met, when I said I was John Harrison and he shook my hand and knew I was lying. I was so impressed, that he could see through such a careful deception. And then, that he hasn't mentioned it since, that shows he can read me well enough to know that it's a necessary deception that isn't going to be harmful to him. He's letting me get away with what he knows is a lie. I wonder how much else he suspects about me, what other probable crimes he's allowing me to pretend to keep to myself._

_No, that's enough. I can't keep thinking like this about him. My life and my heart belong to my sleeping brothers and sisters. They are my raison d'etre. Paul is my flatmate, someone to share the rent and help wash the dishes. He is not my “someone to come home to.” My home is and must always be with my family, not here with him. Baker Street is temporary. Paul is temporary. I must maintain my focus._

He saved the log and switched off the computer, then lay on his bed, watching the dust motes floating in the sunlight that came through the windows.

After a while he heard soft noises from downstairs, and then footsteps on the stairs. He closed his eyes, wishing for it not to happen.

It did. Paul knocked gently on the door. “John?”

John pressed his hands over his eyes. _Go away,_ he thought, _just leave me be, don't get involved with me._

He heard Paul shift outside, then knock again, a bit harder. “John, are you in there?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“Are you all right?”

“Leave me alone,” he said, and hoped it sounded sharp and uncaring.

“What?” He heard Paul try the knob, then sigh in frustration. “No, I won't bloody leave you alone. What's going on?”

“Last night was a mistake,” John said, and fought back a swell of tears as he said it.

“Now hang on just a minute--”

“No,” he bit. “I'm sorry, Paul, but it _was_ a mistake. I should never have let things go so far between us.”

“Don't I get a say in that?”

“No, you don't.”

“What the fuck? Like hell I don't!” Paul was properly angry now. “If you think you can share something like last night with me and then expect me to pretend it never happened, you're a gigantic fucking idiot.”

“I don't ...” John began angrily, but didn't know how to finish.

“You don't what?” Paul asked after a beat. “You don't think I'm an idiot? You don't think last night was important? What?”

John launched off the bed and started pacing. “That's the problem! Last night _was_ important, but … I can't … I just think we're … doing the wrong thing.”

“Look John ...” He heard the door frame creak lightly as Paul leaned against it. “I can't do anything about the way you feel, but I think I have to tell you how _I_ feel _._ ” He took a deep breath, and John imagined him crossing his arms. “It's true that we've known each other barely a fortnight, and I don't know anything about you, hardly, but … damn it, this is coming out all wrong. The thing is, I … I think I love you.”

The words seemed to fall straight to the centre of John's chest and sat there, burning his heart. It was nearly physically painful. He opened the door abruptly. “Say that again.”

Paul turned in surprise. “I … I love you?”

John loomed close, again feeling the edges of panic and hiding it under aggression. “Is it a question?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Paul, please, _listen_ , and understand me.” He closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself and force back the prickling tears. “I do not love lightly. When I open my heart to someone I do so completely.”

Paul regarded him with wariness and a hint of regret. “What happened?”

John was slightly taken aback. “What?”

“What happened, to make you so defensive? Who betrayed you? Who did you lose?”

John looked away and swallowed hard. “You are quite good.”

“Who was it, John?”

He shook his head. “I can't … I can't tell you. I'm sorry.”

“But I am right. You loved someone and it ended badly, and now you're afraid.”

“Of course you're right. You've never been wrong about me.”

Paul's face softened into a sad smile, which John tried to return. After a moment, Paul glanced away and cleared his throat. “Well I guess that's all out in the open then.”

“Yeah, it sort of is.”

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss. And I understand if it means you can't do … this.”

John looked at him in surprise. “Thank you.”

Paul shrugged with feigned nonchalance, but John could tell he was hurting. “Well anyway, I'll be downstairs. I'm overdue for a cup of tea.”

John watched him go down the stairs, then retreated back into his room and shut the door, but didn't lock it. He lay back down on the bed and stared into space, trying to piece together everything that had just happened.

After about half an hour he heard the pipes groan, and the sound of the water shower starting. Paul was taking his time, then, going after the comfort of a steamy bathroom and sweet-smelling soap.

John made up his mind. He didn't want to love Paul, but he didn't seem to have a choice in the matter. If he'd learned anything that morning, it was that his heart was entirely out of his control, and it had decided that he was going to fall in love, so all he could do was go along with it.

He went downstairs, and knocked on the bathroom door as he pushed it open a crack. “Paul?”

“Jesus shit!” There was a dull thud, followed by a muffled groan. “God, John, you scared the fuck out of me.”

“Sorry. Can I come in?”

“Sure, whatever, stop letting the steam out.”

John slipped inside and shut the door. “Did you hurt yourself just now?”

“A little, yeah. Just whacked my head on the wall.”

“All right?”

“I'll be fine. What are you doing here?”

“I need to apologize for earlier, it wasn't … gentlemanly of me.”

“You're damn right it wasn't.” John watched through the foggy glass as Paul reached for a shampoo bottle. “Bit of a dick move, actually, making someone wake up alone.”

John scowled. “I said I'm sorry.”

“I know, I know,” Paul sighed. “I've been waiting to say that though. Good to get it out, I think I can move on now. But really, why are you in here?”

“Well, I … I've heard good things about shower sex.”

The shampoo bottle hit the floor of the shower, and Paul swore again as he picked it up and set it right. “You're serious?”

“Of course I'm serious.”

Paul pulled the door to the shower enclosure aside and poked his head out. “Well come on, then.”

John quickly pulled off his robe and pants – noting that his arousal was already becoming apparent – and stepped into the small space next to Paul. “Where did you hit your head?” he asked softly.

“Here.” Paul dipped his head and pointed to a spot just above his hairline.

John set one hand on Paul's shoulder, and the other on the back of his neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to the spot in question. Paul let out a little sigh, then tilted his head up and caught John's lips with his.

This kiss was totally different than what they had shared the night before, John reflected. Even when he ignored the fact that this one was happening while they were being pelted with water, which made everything wet and slippery. The kiss was leisurely, exploratory. Paul's lips moved slowly but purposefully, pressing and relaxing and tasting and brushing along his while John simply _felt_ and let his body's instincts drive whatever small actions he took.

Paul pulled away with a little nip that made John gasp, and looked at the side of his partner's pale neck. “I'm surprised I didn't leave a mark last night. I usually do, when I get like that.”

John reflexively touched the spot where Paul had bitten him the previous evening. “I don't bruise easily,” he said, which had the benefit of being true.

Paul smiled. “Apparently not. Which is nice, I suppose. I have a portable dermal regenerator but you know how it is, they get suspicious when you take it in for a tune-up more frequently than required.”

John raised his eyebrows. “You use it that much?”

“Sometimes,” Paul admitted, “when I've had someone steady for a bit. I bruise easily and I'd rather not have rumours flying at work.”

“I thought you were the one leaving the bruises.”

“Use your imagination,” Paul chided, leaning in for another kiss that was more heated than before. “When I bit you, didn't you want to return the favour?”

John shivered. “Yes, but I … I have to be careful. I don't always know my own strength.”

“I'll tell you if it's too much.” Paul brought his hands to John's waist, and guided them through a half-turn so the spray was to John's back. “Go ahead, I know you want to try.”

John dipped his head so his nose rested on Paul's shoulder, and pressed an exploratory kiss. He was rewarded by Paul murmuring in his ear and sliding his hands up his back to his shoulders, and he experimented by catching the skin between his teeth. Paul's breath caught at that, and John sucked gently, prompting a breathy moan.

“God, John, the things you do to me.”

He chuckled. “I've only just begun.”

“Oh fuck.” Paul pressed his hips into John's and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks. “The rest of that is going to have to wait for another time, I think.”

John was too overwhelmed with sensation to answer, so he simply nodded and pulled Paul close as he kissed him again, accidentally knocking their teeth together in his haste to have more. For his part, Paul moved his hand faster and thrust against him, pushing him back against the wall of the shower, squeezing and twisting and stroking until John was so overwhelmed that all he could do was throw his head back and ride out the waves of ecstasy.

They stayed in the shower until the water began to cool – much sooner than they wanted – then stepped out and dried off. John slipped his robe back on, and Paul tucked a towel around his waist before pulling the door open … and stopping short at the threshold. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi,” said a female voice, sounding amused.  "Mrs Hudson let me in."

John looked over Paul's shoulder. “Pretty blonde?” he teased.

“Mary,” he said slowly. “This is my flatmate John.”

 

When John got back downstairs, Paul was fully clothed and sitting with Mary at the kitchen table. There was a third cup of tea on the corner, which he picked up gratefully before leaning against the counter.

“Not going to sit?”

His response was a half-shrug as he sipped the tea.

Mary glanced between them with a grin. “I can't stay long anyway. I just wanted to stop in and see the new flat and check out this man Paul's been pining over.”

Paul's jaw dropped. “I haven't been _pining_!”

Mary's laugh was musical. “You didn't see yourself last week while he was away.” She looked at John. “Where did you go, anyway? The way he was acting it was like you'd dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Not inaccurate,” John said casually. “I'm with Starfleet, and the nature of my position means that I often get called away with no notice.”

“What sort of position is that?”

“One that's classified, I'm afraid. But I can tell you that I was actually off-planet some of the time I was away. I wanted to call but it simply wasn't possible.”

“It ended up all right, I think,” Paul said. “It was a good excuse to take you out to Angelo's.”

“Ah, the famous Angelo's,” Mary said with a smile. “I can't even imagine how aggressive he must have been when it was an actual date.”

“He wasn't too bad, actually,” John said. “He seemed to be under the impression that Paul had a pretty blonde girlfriend.”

“Oh, Paul.” Mary elbowed him. “You'd better take him back soon so Angelo gets it right.”

“When has Angelo ever had it right?”

She leaned in and lowered her voice. “It matters this time though, doesn't it?”

Paul blushed. “Yeah.”

John narrowed his eyes. “What matters?”

“You matter,” Mary said. “In the eight years I've known him, Paul's never taken a date to Angelo's more than once. He's never been with anyone long enough.”

“Paul, I didn't realize you had hidden depths.”

Paul fidgeted with his mug and awkwardly avoided eye contact. “I did tell you, earlier.”

_I think I love you._ “Oh. You did, didn't you.”

Mary's mouth fell open and she stared at Paul. “You actually used the L-word? You've never said that, to anyone.”

“I didn't _exactly_ say it.”

“You and I both know that's a meaningless technicality. I didn't think it was even _possible_ for you to fall in love. The fact that you're even thinking it is huge.”

John caught Paul's eye, and they shared a shy smile. “I thought you said that to all the girls,” John joked.

Paul chuckled nervously. “No, Mary's right. I actually don't know the last time I thought I might be in love with someone. Must be at least ten years ago.”

Mary stood gracefully. “Well, boys, it's been great seeing you. _Both_ of you. Paul, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

She paused next to John on her way to the door. “He's special to me,” she said softly, “and he's just given you something I've never known him to give to anyone. Be good to him.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Smart choice.” Mary patted his shoulder fondly on her way out. “Bye!”


	5. Utopia Planitia

2258.100

 

Paul laced his fingers through John's as he stared at the slowly-receding Earth out the window of the small craft. “I can't believe this is actually happening.”

“You haven't been off-world before?”

“Oh, no, I've been a few times. I just meant actually going on holiday with you, someplace properly far away from work.”

“I couldn't get a promise from my superior that I won't be called,” John said. “They might need me to go somewhere.”

Paul squeezed his hand gently. “Let's not worry about that, all right? If they call, you'll get the next flight. If they don't, you and I will enjoy our week on Mars.”

John smiled at him, and settled back into his seat as the ship's engines began to hum, and then the world outside stretched into the eerie streaks of subspace as they jumped to warp.

Three and a half hours later John was stiff, despite the gradual reduction of the ship's gravity from Earth to Martian, and he was eager to disembark. By now he was fairly used to making jaunts to the outer solar system, but the Fleet's ships were much faster than the trip he and Paul had been able to afford. But finally they arrived at the Martian Orbital Station, where they were enthusiastically greeted by a petite woman with sandy blond hair. “Paulie!”

“Harry!” He lifted her easily in the reduced gravity and spun her around. “How are you?”

“Same as when we talked yesterday,” she laughed. “I'm so glad you're here, it's been way too long.” She let go of him and looked to John. “Commander Harrison, Sir, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

He extended his hand. “We're both off-duty, Lieutenant Watson. It's just John.”

“Well then, John, watch your step. It takes a bit to get used to the Martian gravity,” she said, leading them through the station. “Paul's told me so much about you. I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when my big brother found someone he cared about enough to actually bring to see me.”

“I'm still a bit surprised that I'm apparently such a big deal.” He stumbled a bit, and Paul caught his elbow.

“Easy. You haven't got your Mars legs yet.”

Harry turned around. “Been a while since your gravity adaptation training, huh?”

John blushed a little. He knew it was standard at Starfleet Academy, but he couldn't exactly tell her that he'd never been a cadet there. “I guess I didn't think I'd have a need for it.”

“Once the shipyard is done, it'll have Earth standard gravity, and some bits of this station already do,” Harry explained. “But we keep it Martian here because a lot of people actually live on the surface, and it's weird to be switching all the time.”

“I booked our room in the normal section,” Paul said, “but I could change it to Earth equivalent if you want.”

“No, it's fine.” John had his feet under him again, and was adapting to the slightly bouncier stride his long legs required. “I'm sure I'll get the hang of it.”

“The one thing you _have_ to try in Martian gravity is sex,” Harry said. “It's not quite as crazy as zero-g, but you can do things that are difficult on Earth.”

“Harry!” Paul shoved her gently, and she giggled as she shoved back.

“Come on, Paulie, anyone with eyes can see you're verbing his noun. And we would have words if you weren't, he's delicious. No offence, Commander.”

“None taken,” he replied. “Verbing my noun?”

“Euphemism,” Paul explained quickly. “Sort of a Watson family thing. Could we not keep having this conversation in public, please?”

They were interrupted by a call from behind them. “John! Commander Harrison!”

All three turned as a portly middle-aged man in a grey Starfleet uniform jogged towards them. John smiled politely. “Doctor Stamford, fancy meeting you here.”

“I could say the same. What brings you here? Not official business?”

“No, I'm on holiday actually. This is my flatmate, Paul Watson, and his sister Harry. Sorry, Lieutenant Harriet Watson.” She snapped a salute as John continued. “She's an engineer at the new shipyard construction. Paul, Harry, this is Commander Mike Stamford. We've collaborated a little bit on one of my projects.”

They shook hands all around. “What's your speciality?” Paul asked.

“Medical bay design,” Mike said. “I was a doctor for a while, when I was a younger man, but now they've got me optimising things for all you young people who actually go on active duty.”

“Oh, I'm not a member of Starfleet,” Paul said. “Just these two.”

Mike raised his eyebrows at John. “How'd you manage a civilian flatmate?”

“Civilian flat. I need to be able to get away from work.”

Mike nodded. “Good choice, that. You don't want to end up like me.” He gave them a broad grin. “Well, I just thought I'd say hi. Enjoy your stay, and I'll see you around, probably.”

“Yeah, probably. Bye.”

“Flatmate?” Harry said, after Mike was out of earshot.

John sighed as Paul gave him an accusing look. “My co-workers don't know I'm seeing someone, and I'd rather keep it that way.”

“Whereas my co-workers have assumed you were my boyfriend ever since you moved in. What, are you not allowed a personal life?”

“I'd just rather keep the personal things to myself,” John said. “With the nature of my work, it wouldn't do to have people talking to me about it. It's not a reflection on you, I promise.”

“What's the nature of your work that there's no room for a little gossip?” Harry asked.

“Classified.” Paul said it at the same time as John, matching his inflection.

Harry looked between them warily. “I'd actually better get going too,” she said, after a silence. “My shift starts in an hour and a half and I need to eat first. The visitor residences are just over there, it's easy to find. Do you want to get together for lunch tomorrow?”

“That would be nice,” Paul said. “Give me a call to set it up?”

“Sure.” She grinned at them. “Have a nice evening, you two.”

“Thanks.” They watched her walk away, and then Paul turned to John. “Shall we?”

“You're not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“It just seemed like you were upset that I'm keeping our relationship secret from my colleagues.”

Paul sighed. “John, if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you have a _lot_ of secrets. It's actually a bit of a relief that I'm not the only one you're keeping in the dark about things.”

“If it's any consolation, you know more about me than they do, with the exception of three of my superiors.”

“Yes, all right,” Paul said. “That does help a little, actually. Does Stamford know what you do at work?”

“Only certain aspects. There are several levels of classification and he's only in the shallowest.”

“So I'm guessing your big project is something with a medical facility?”

“That's one of them. But like you keep saying, we're here to relax. Let's leave my work behind, all right?”

Paul smiled at him, and John's heart warmed. “All right. Let's go check out our room.”

The room was small but well-appointed, and Paul unpacked their things while John poked around. “Sonic shower,” he announced. “But there's a notice that there's a hot tub available for guests.”

“You really hate sonics, don't you?”

John came back into the bedroom. “I don't _hate_ them, I just far prefer water. I don't really feel clean from a sonic.” He bounced on the bed. “Oh my, this is nice.”

Paul flopped beside him with a giggle. “Soft beds in low gravity are a wonderful thing.”

John rolled half on top of him and kissed him hard. “Do we have time for some noun-verbing before dinner?”

Paul laughed. “We don't have anything booked for tonight. You can verb my noun all you like.”

John kissed him again, and his voice was husky. “I was actually hoping we could do it the other way.”

Paul's eyes widened. “You want to try bottoming?”

“Yes.”

Paul pulled him into a fevered kiss. “God, you're so sexy. I've been waiting for you to ask for that.”

“I know. I thought it would be a nice gift to give you while we're on vacation.”

Paul shook his head with a gentle smile. “John, if we do this right, it could be even better for you than it is for me. If it turns out you like anal sex … well. You know how much I like it. It's so much more intense that way.”

John's eyes were dilated wide, and he licked his lips. “I had noticed you like it quite a lot.”

“Good, so you are paying attention.” Paul started pulling at his clothes, removing them with careful reverence that was at odds with the intense desire he was feeling. John was panting by the time he had him naked, and a flush had spread across much of his pale body. His cock was fully engorged, and Paul took the head into his mouth, licking and sucking gently while he caressed his balls with one hand. John moaned deeply and spread his legs slightly, letting Paul settle between them before threading his fingers through his hair. Paul continued his attentions to John's cock as he let his fingers slowly work their way farther back, occasionally slicking them with spit. John spread his legs wider and wider, and gasped when Paul finally stroked his entrance. “Oh god.”

Paul pulled his mouth off the hot skin. “All right?”

“Yes, oh, don't stop.”

“Actually, I think we ought to pause just a moment.”

John huffed in impatience as Paul got up, and quickly disrobed before retrieving one of their bottles of lube and lying down beside him on the bed. He liberally slicked up the fingers of one hand, and kissed John as he reached between his legs again. John moaned into his mouth when he pressed one finger in.

“Easy,” he murmured.

“It feels so good.”

“Good, just relax and let it happen.”

“I haven't got much of a choice, have I?”

Paul pushed his finger all the way in and stroked his prostate gently, and John shivered with pleasure. Paul did it again, then slowly slipped in a second finger. John was very tight, but Paul's motions continued to draw sounds of pleasure out of him, and he gradually relaxed and spread his legs even wider when Paul added a third finger.

“Do you think you're ready?” Paul breathed.

John nodded quickly. “Yes, I'm ready.”

“Right.” Paul rolled onto his back, and John gave him a quizzical look. “I want you on top,” he explained. “You control the pace. The reduced gravity should make it easy to go nice and slow.”

John got control over his limbs and straddled Paul's hips. “What if I don't want to go slow?”

“You want to go slow,” he said with a smile, reaching underneath John to put more lube on his own cock. “Fingers are one thing. This is something else entirely. Just take it easy, breathe deeply, and stop if it hurts.”

John nodded, his hair flopping lightly against his forehead. “Okay. Here goes.”

Paul helped him line up, and kept his hands on his hips as John sank slowly down, breathing raggedly. Paul had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from thrusting up into his partner's tight heat.

After an eternity his buttocks brushed the tops of Paul's thighs, and they both breathed a sigh of delight and relief. “How are you?” John asked.

“If you don't move soon I think I might explode.”

John chuckled deeply, and the vibration made Paul whimper. John rolled his hips slightly, and Paul pressed gently up into him. The motions were small and gentle, but they were both overcome with sensation and quickly established a leisurely rhythm.

After a few minutes John lifted one hand from Paul's chest to his own prick, and began stroking himself, slowly at first, then faster and harder. Paul had to close his eyes against the intensely erotic image of John's slim body atop his, shivering with pleasure as his lean muscles worked.

It was everything Paul could do to hold back, so when John finally clenched and cried out, his own climax shot through him with startling intensity.

 

Later in the evening they had a light dinner, then relaxed a bit in the spa before going to bed. In the morning Paul called Harry, and she took them on a tour of the in-progress Utopia Planitia orbital shipyard. Paul hung back a bit while Harry and John talked about technical details he could never hope to understand, so instead he enjoyed watching John in his perfectly-tailored uniform (which Paul had convinced him to wear, to lend their outing an air of being official), and savoured the sound of his voice resonating in the partially-completed rooms that Harry led them through.

They had lunch together before Harry's shift, and as soon as she had gone Paul dragged John back to their room and only barely managed to not tear the uniform in his haste to get it off.

On the second morning, they were awakened by John's comm chirping. He grumbled as he rolled over and grabbed it. “Harrison.”

“Good morning, Commander. I hope it's not too early.”

John stiffened and cleared his throat. “No, Sir, it's not. I'm sorry.”

The man on the other end chuckled. “At ease, I know you're on vacation, which is why I hate to call. But I need to have a little conference with you about the project.”

John gave Paul an apologetic look. “I understand, Sir. I can catch the next shuttle.”

“That won't be necessary. I understand you're at Mars?”

“That's correct.”

“We can teleconference through the Utopia Planitia office. I'll book a conference room for you. Will 0930 work?”

John glanced at the clock – it was 0815. “Yes, Sir, that will work.”

“Great. I'll see you then.”

He disconnected, and John flopped back into the pillows with a sigh. “I'm so sorry, Paul.”

“It's all right.” Paul stretched lazily. “I understand. We'll just have to go to the surface tomorrow instead.”

John leaned over and kissed him. “You're far too good for me.”

Paul wrapped his arms around John's waist and held him there for a minute, kissing sweetly, before he let go. “Up you get. We have time to eat breakfast before you have to go.”

In twenty minutes they had both showered and dressed, John once again in his grey uniform. “Why are you wearing your hair that way?” Paul asked.

John looked up from pulling on his boots. “What way?”

“You've got it combed back.” Paul gestured. “Normally you let the fringe go all curly.”

“That's when I'm not on duty,” John explained. “I have an image to maintain at work.”

Paul sighed. “That makes sense, I guess. How come I've never seen it before?”

“You've never seen me go in to work before. This takes more doing, so I usually leave it for the last minute.” He stepped over and kissed Paul. “Let's go eat. I need a cup of coffee.”

Paul laughed as they left their room. “You Starfleet people and your coffee. Harry never drank the stuff until she joined, now she practically lives on it.”

“I think it's a replicator thing. They're better at making decent coffee than decent tea. I mean, really, it's all fairly vile, nothing like the real thing. But if you need hot caffeine, coffee is the better bet when a replicator is your only option.”

John headed off to his conference after breakfast, and Paul wandered the shops in the station for a few hours until Harry met him for lunch. “Where's your other half?”

“Duty called. And he's not my other half, he's my flatmate.”

“He is definitely more than your flatmate, Paul!”

“Fine, boyfriend, if we must.” They chose a table that overlooked the concourse, and had a view of the terminator slowly moving across the planet below. The waiter arrived immediately, and Harry ordered for both of them.

“Boyfriend does seem like a terribly inaccurate description of our relationship, though,” Paul continued.

“Oh? What would be better?”

“I don't know.” He fiddled with his glass of water. “We're grown men, after all. We live together and we have a relationship that's physically and emotionally intimate.”

“Have you met any of his family yet?”

“No. He actually never talks about them. Or his past at all, really.”

Harry raised her eyebrows. “He doesn't talk about his past _ever_?”

Paul shook his head. “Never. If it weren't absurd, I'd think he didn't actually exist until the day I met him.”

“He must talk about when he was at the Academy, though. Everyone does.”

“I know he graduated in 2250 and started in his current posting right away, but that's everything he's told me.”

“2250? That's the same year as me. I don't remember seeing him.”

“You were in different divisions. He does intelligence and defence research.”

“But still, he's … well, not exactly alien, but he's distinctive-looking, and there were few enough people at the Academy then that it was unusual to find someone you'd never met even once.” Paul shifted uncomfortably, and Harry narrowed her eyes. “Okay, what is it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Paul, I have known you literally my entire life. I can tell when you know something, and you know a _lot_ of things.”

“All right, fine.” He took a deep breath. “He's lying to me.”

Her eyes widened. “He's _what?_ ”

“His graduation year, I can tell he's lying about it.”

“Why in the world would he lie about that?”

“I have no idea. I just know that he didn't graduate from the Academy in 2250.”

“And you haven't asked him about it?”

“It doesn't seem important. Obviously he graduated sometime, right? He's an officer. The year hardly matters and I'm not interviewing him for a job.”

“But still, it makes you wonder if he's lying about other things, things that matter.” She didn't miss her brother's expression. “Oh, Paulie. How bad is it?”

“It's … it's pretty bad, I suppose.”

Harry stared at him until it was apparent he wasn't going to volunteer the information. “Paul, you _have_ to tell me. What's he lying to you about?”

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose and didn't look at her. “His name.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I know.”

“God, Paul, how long have you known?”

“Since we first met. He said his name was John Harrison and I could tell it was an alias.”

“But … that must be his name. That Doctor Stamford knew him, and your landlady must have done a check.”

“That's what baffles me so much. Clearly it's his official name, I've seen his ID. And over the last couple of months he's gotten comfortable enough that he doesn't have the lying tells any more. But the first time we met I confronted him about it, and he confirmed I was right. I guessed it was because his job was in intelligence and he didn't deny it.”

“Intelligence that involves facility design?”

“Apparently so.”

The waiter came with their sandwiches and tea, and they paused awkwardly until he went away again. “I was all set to tell you how much I like him, but now I'm not sure I can,” Harry said.

“Is keeping quiet about his past really such a bad thing?”

“In a flatmate, no. In a boyfriend, yes, especially if you want things to go farther with him. He knows about your past, doesn't he? You've told him stories about me, and when we were kids?”

“Yes.”

“And he's never offered you anything.”

“No.”

“Don't you wonder what he's hiding?”

“I try not to.”

“Paulie, you're too sweet. John seems wonderful, but you have to be realistic. You don't really know who he is. If he really loved you, he'd be able to tell you.”

“Now, that's not fair. I know he loves me, and I know he wants to tell me, but he can't and it's out of his control.”

“That's what frightens me, though. I know you wouldn't be so crazy about him if he were just being private. He has secrets that are _dangerous_ , Paul.” She looked at him as he sat silently, eyes downcast. “God, I need a drink.”

He looked up at that. “I thought you'd quit.”

“I did, I have. Doesn't mean I don't want one. This is heavy shit.”

“You'll have to go with tea,” Paul said, picking up his own cup. “Alcohol's nothing but trouble.”

She picked up her sandwich. “Sounds like you have some experience with that.”

“The night we got together we were a little drunk.”

She nodded while she chewed. “Just a little?”

“Yeah, just a little. Only enough to quiet the little voice that said sleeping with my ridiculously sexy flatmate might not be the best idea I'd ever had.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

Paul turned, and smiled as John came towards them. “You're done early.”

“It was a three-hour unscheduled conference, I rather think I'm done late.”

Harry pulled a chair over from another table and John took it as he unfastened his jacket. “Thank you, Harry.”

She smiled tightly, and Paul cleared his throat. “Sorry we didn't order you anything.”

John picked up half of his sandwich and took a big bite. “I'll manage.”

Harry laughed at that, and Paul breathed a sigh of relief.

 

The next several days went smoothly. John didn't have to work again, and Harry behaved herself, though she was never quite as warm to John as she had been before she know about his secrets. If he noticed, he didn't mention it, and if anything seemed to pay even more attention to Paul.

On their final evening they had a romantic dinner at the nicest restaurant on the station, then made love slowly. Afterwards they lay in the dim light of their room, breathing deeply and touching gently as the sweat cooled on their bodies. After a few minutes, John rolled onto his side and looked at Paul through his eyelashes.

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

He paused. “I love you.”

Paul grinned and gave him a kiss. “I love you too.”

“That's not what I meant to say.”

“Oh, well, I take it back then.”

“Paul,” he scolded, and laced their fingers together. “I'm trying to be serious.”

“I'm sorry. What was it you meant to say?”

“I want to ask … will you marry me?”

Paul's heart thundered, and a million different shades of emotion fought for dominance. John watched him, eagerness growing to worry as seconds ticked by and Paul didn't answer. “Paul?”

“John, I'm sorry ...”

Before he could finish John was out of the bed and stalking towards the bathroom.

“Hey, wait!”

The light flicked on, and he turned around. Paul saw wetness glistening in his eyes. “For what?" he spat. "You've already broken my heart, I don't think there's anything more that needs to be said.”

“Please, just listen.” He sat up on the side of the bed, and patted it in invitation. John hesitated for a long moment, then slowly came back and sat stiffly about a metre from Paul. “I need to tell you why I can't accept. It's not because I don't love you, because I do, more than anything.” He shifted a bit closer, and was relieved when John didn't move away. “I want to say yes. God, I want to say yes. But I can't.”

John looked up at him, and his eyes were full of pain. “Why are you still talking to me, then?”

“I … _what?_ ”

John squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I don't understand why we're still talking if we're breaking up.”

“Oh, John, no.” Paul pulled him into a fierce hug, and John buried his face against the side of his neck. “We are definitely _not_ breaking up. That's the last thing I want. It's just that our relationship isn't ready for marriage. That's not the next step for us.”

He let out a little sob that may have been relief, and held Paul tightly. “What is the next step for us?”

“I'm not sure yet. But we're going to stay together and find out.”

John kissed him, then pulled back and wiped the tears off his face. “I feel a bit stupid.”

“It's how you feel, it's not stupid.”

“I've never misread you so badly.”

“It's all right, it wasn't what you were expecting.”

John let out a shuddering sigh, and Paul stroked his leg. “I just love you so much, I thought marriage was the logical thing.”

“It would be, but we're a bit more complicated than that. Just love isn't enough, no matter how strong it is.”

“Is it that we haven't been together long enough? I realize it's only been five weeks.”

“No, it's not that. Well, it's sort of that, but there's a bigger reason I had to turn you down.”

John looked up. “What do you mean? What more do we need?”

Paul bit his lip. It had been weeks since he'd last mentioned this, but Harry was right, and it needed to come out. “We need honesty. _I_ need honesty, from you.”

“I've told you everything that I can. And you know when I'm lying.”

“I know that, love. But how can I marry you when I don't even know your name?”

“You do know my name. It's not the name I used to have, but it's my name now. Every time I hear you say it, it becomes more a part of me.” He touched Paul's cheek. “The way you whisper it in my ear in the night … it makes me wish that no one but you would ever call me that.”

Paul blushed. “I just … I feel like I don't really know you yet. There's still too much hidden, and that's a part of you, even if you don't want it to be. I need to know the real you, I need to be sure before I can commit myself to you.” He caught John's hand, and kissed his fingers gently. “I want to marry you, I really do. But wanting isn't quite enough. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He gave John's fingers a little squeeze. “Let's not let this ruin the end of our holiday, all right? I'm going to clean up, and then you can clean up, and then we're going to fall asleep together and in the morning we'll go home.”

* * *

[Full-size and rebloggable at Tumblr](http://ladymac111.tumblr.com/post/51534286079/stardate-2258-101-utopia-planitia-shipyard-mars)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to JustineLark for the phrase “verbing his noun” ;)


	6. Balance

2258.136

The door to the flat banged open. “John!” Paul called. “You home?”

“Yes,” came the voice from upstairs. “What do you want?”

Paul took the stairs two at a time to the room that John had converted from a bedroom into his office. “I've got a _brilliant_ case. An actual murder, can you believe it?”

John leaned back in his chair and grinned. “You asking me to tag along?”

“I think you could be helpful. It happened just outside the Fleet offices but there's nothing on surveillance, like it didn't happen at all. I think having a uniform on the team could help.”

“You sure it's not because you want to show off to me? Dazzle me with your detective prowess?”

“Does it work?”

John got up with a smile. “I think my involvement on this should stay unofficial. I'm doing this as a favour to you.”

Paul grabbed him and kissed him quickly before they headed down. “You're the best.”

 

Mary was already there when Paul and John arrived at the morgue to which the victim had been taken, and the young pathologist in charge had him all set out for them to inspect.

“Hello, Molly,” Paul greeted her. “Thanks so much for helping us out, I know it's late and technically you're done for the evening.”

“It's no problem,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hello, John.”

He glanced over in apparent surprise. “Hello, Dr Hooper.” He turned his attention to the corpse as Paul joined him.

Molly sighed and leaned against a counter, and Mary sidled up alongside her. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Do you think he even notices me?”

Mary lowered her voice. “Use your _eyes_ , Molly. John's not only not single, he and Paul have been together since April.”

Molly watched the two men crowd each other over the slab, casually invading one another's personal space as Paul talked animatedly and John hung on every word. “Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Yes, oh. You're barking up the wrong tree, love.”

“Fuck.”

“Well-put.”

“I think I ought to give up on men,” Molly groaned. “It's just not worth it.”

“As long as you don't get yourself obsessed with work like I did.”

“Come on, Mary, you know me. I'm already the weird girl who spends more time with the dead than with the living. And Toby doesn't really count as a person. I'm turning into a crazy cat lady.”

“All the more reason you need to get out of the house. I'm having some people for dinner Friday night, are you free?”

Molly looked at her with something akin to wonder. “Me? Really?”

“Sure, why not? It's going to be a few women from the Met and my sister who's visiting from New Vulcan, just a casual thing. I tell them about you a lot and they want to meet you.”

Molly beamed. “Thanks, I'd love to. You promise it won't be awkward?”

Mary put an arm around her shoulders. “Would I do that to you?” They both returned their attention to the pair of men, who were still poking gently at the body Molly had wheeled out. “Work-life balance is a tricky thing,” Mary observed.

“Do you think those two have it figured out?”

“Not in the least. Paul's been distracted recently, and he doesn't come out for drinks with the department as much any more. Things are either going really well at home, or they're having problems. Maybe both.”

“He doesn't tell you?”

“I don't ask. Not really my business.”

“I'd think it would be, when it interferes with his job.”

Mary sighed. “I guess I should bring it up.”

 

Twenty-two hours later, the case was cracked, and the suspect was in custody. Mary and Paul were running on adrenaline, though John still seemed as fresh as he'd been the day before, if a bit dirtier due to his scuffle with the murderer. The police officers involved mutually decided to leave the paperwork for the next day, and went home to bed.

Paul arrived early the next morning and made coffee while he waited for Mary. He felt a bit naughty for having unofficially included John in the previous day's adventure, so he thought he'd atone by doing an extra good job wrapping things up correctly.

“Morning, Paul,” Mary called out when she arrived. “Ooh, coffee, thank you.”

“Don't mention it. Least I could do, for all the help you gave me yesterday. I do actually have a new sergeant now, you don't have to be on all my cases any more.”

“Come on, Dimmock's useless. You get all the best cases anyway. I'd rather work on those than have my name on another open-and-shut case of shoplifting.”

They sat down on opposite sides of Paul's desk and got to work sorting all of the bits and pieces they'd accumulated. Eventually Paul spoke. “I hope it wasn't … out of line, for me to bring John in to help.”

Mary paused, staring at the sheet in her hands. “No, it was … fine. He was instrumental, really, for his knowledge of Starfleet security, not to mention when he chased the guy down.”

Paul had set his folder down and was looking at her warily. “But?”

She sighed. “Paul, it's fine to be in love, but you're letting this go too far.”

Paul looked taken aback. “What are you talking about? You just said it was fine.”

“It's not about yesterday,” she said. “It's been happening for a while. John is under your skin, it's like he's absorbing you. I hardly recognize you sometimes. You're codependent and you need to get back to yourself.”

He blinked slowly. “I … I didn't realize it was so obvious.”

“Maybe not to everyone, but I know you really well. Something changed between you a month ago, didn't it? When you got back from your holiday to Mars, you were different. You haven't been as sharp as you used to be.” She leaned forward. “Did something happen?”

Paul's ears turned red. “God, you're just like my sister.”

“I've met your sister, she's wonderful. What happened?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “John … asked me to marry him.”

Mary's mouth fell open. “He didn't.”

“He did.”

“And?”

Paul shrugged. “I had to turn him down.”

“You didn't want to.”

“I didn't. More than anything, I wanted to say yes. But I can't marry him.”

“Why not?”

“He … he has a lot of secrets. Really an astonishing number of secrets. He knows that I know, but he can't tell me. It's something to do with his job being really highly classified.”

Mary's heart ached, and she suddenly felt a bit bad for having criticized him when he had such a good reason for his strange behaviour. “And these secrets are big enough that they prevent you from being able to marry him.”

“That's the long and short of it, yeah.”

“God, I'm so sorry. I know how crazy you are about him, it must be unbearable.”

“Thanks, it … it sort of is. I suppose that's why I've been a bit weird. I can't get it off my mind.”

Mary shuffled some of the things on the desk for a minute, not really arranging them, just trying to do something with her hands. Finally she spoke again. “I think you should see someone.”

“What?”

“I mean, like a counsellor, or a therapist. I understand that his proposal was a big deal, but it's been a month and it's still affecting you so much that your job is suffering.”

“I do _not_ need a therapist!”

“But what if you do?” she demanded. “It's gone too far, Paul. It's like he defines you. We need _you_ back. You have to separate yourself from him.”

He got up. “That isn't going to happen, Mary. Even if I can't marry him, that doesn't mean I'm going to _leave_ him.”

“I'm not saying you should leave him!”

“Pull back, whatever, it's not happening. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone, and I'm not going to lose what we have. Nothing is worth more than our relationship.” He stalked angrily out of the office.

When he was out of sight, Mary let her head fall on the desk. “You fucked that up,” she muttered. “You _really_ fucked that up.”

The morning sun was beginning to get warm as Paul walked quickly through the streets of London, trying to burn off his frustration. It was true that John had gotten under his skin, and all right, they were fairly codependent. But they still each had their individual lives, didn't they? John had his mysterious projects, and Paul had his cases. Cases which John was now beginning to help on more often than not, despite having his own work and not being a member of the police.

Paul deflated suddenly, and leaned against a building. Mary was right. Of course she was, Mary was always right. When had he crossed that line? Was it the first time he asked John to come along? Was it the first time John accepted? It hardly mattered now. The important thing was, he'd let John become his entire life, and that wasn't how healthy relationships worked. _PaulandJohn_ had to stop being an all-the-time thing; there had to be boundaries.

He thought about going home, about telling John, but stopped himself. This was exactly the sort of thing that was the problem, wasn't it? This didn't involve John, not really. This was about Paul's work, and Paul didn't need John for that. He probably didn't even need to tell him at all, really. Eventually John might notice, but it's not like he would be hurt, right? He had plenty of his own work to do.

Paul straightened and headed back the way he'd come. He had a case to wrap up.

 

John was out when Paul got home that evening, and there was a handwritten note on the table saying he'd gone to pick up some things for dinner. Paul picked it up and rubbed it gently between his fingers, enjoying the slightly rough texture of the paper and the indentations left by John's pen. Not many people still used pen and paper, and it was a quirk that Paul found endearing.

Before long the front door opened, and John came upstairs with a small bag. He smiled at Paul and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He started emptying the bag. “What's on your mind?”

“Nothing's on my mind.”

“Yes there is, you're standing in the middle of the kitchen looking pensive. Is it the case?”

“No, the case is fine, all wrapped up and on to the lawyers now.”

“So what is it?”

Paul sighed. “Mary had a little talk with me today.”

“What about?”

“About us.”

John paused, and turned around slowly. “What about us?”

Paul crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “Apparently I've … _changed_ , since we got together. And especially since we got back from Mars.”

“And that's a bad thing?”

“It sort of is, yeah. She said – and she's right – that I've been distracted. I think about you all the time, and it's affecting my performance at work. I'm not as sharp or as quick as I normally am, and I've been getting sloppy with my paperwork. Everything's taking longer than it used to and … and I'm letting the team down.”

“Surely they can't fault you for having a life outside the office.”

“It isn't just a job, though. You must understand, your career is similar. I've devoted my life to this, and it needs my full attention. Not the little half bits I've been giving in between being obsessed with you.”

John's face hardened. “What are you saying?”

Paul sighed. “I don't know. Just that I need to get myself sorted out, I guess. I need to re-prioritize.”

John stood perfectly still for a moment, then brushed past Paul and went up the stairs as fast as his long legs would take him.

“John?” Paul spun and hurried after him. “John! What are you doing?” He reached the top of the stairs, and saw his partner haphazardly packing his spare uniforms into a duffel bag. “Oh my god, what are you _doing?_ ”

John didn't look up, but flicked off the light and went down again, bag in hand. “You need some space,” he said, and there was a tremor in his voice. “You just said it, you need to sort your life out without me around.”

“I never said--”

“But you were thinking it, weren't you.” John was in the bedroom, and stuffed underwear and socks into the bag before heading out to the sitting room and shrugging into his coat.

Paul's heart was in his throat. “Where are you going?”

John finally glanced at him, his eyes hard. “I'm giving you some space.”

He started down the stairs towards the street, and Paul grabbed his arm. “No, _please_ , you don't have to--”

“ _Let go of me_.”

The words were startlingly vicious, and Paul let go instantly, then watched, helpless, as John all but ran out into the foggy evening.

Paul was shaking and tears were already rolling down his cheeks as he found his comm and called John, once, twice, three four five times. The first four times it rang twice before going to the message, and then John must have switched it off, because it didn't ring at all before the impassive voice spoke. _You've reached Commander John Harrison. Leave a message._

He sat down in the centre of the floor, staring at the device as it recorded the choked sobs he was helpless to stop.

 

Three hours later John was in San Francisco, and checked into a room in a Starfleet-operated facility only blocks from Headquarters. He hung up his uniforms in the little closet, then switched his communicator back on. There was a long message from Paul; he deleted it without listening, and then erased the five missed calls before setting Paul's alert to silent.

It was a strange thing, being unwanted. But he should have expected this. Paul had made it fairly clear: with the secrets between them, their relationship didn't have a future. They had been in a holding pattern, continuing in the habits they'd formed. And apparently being in love wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to just be happy together, to hold hands and kiss and sleep together and have little arguments over whose turn it was to sort out dinner, or what sort of blanket to put on the bed as the weather warmed. Paul needed more, but at the same time, he wasn't willing to accept the _more_ that John had offered. And his reasons were good, of course. Paul's reasons were always good.

John just wished he had been enough.

 

2258.139

Paul woke with a start, and nearly fell off the edge of the couch. He caught himself just in time, and sat up stiffly. The bright early morning sun was coming in through the sitting room windows, and he felt hollow and dehydrated, but more clear-headed than the night before, with the beginnings of a plan.

But first things first. His joints protested as he got to his feet and padded into the kitchen, where he put the kettle on and was reaching for a second mug before he stopped himself. He left John's in the cabinet and only prepared his own, then unearthed his tablet from the clutter on the desk and went to work.

 

In the morning, John went to Headquarters. Admiral Marcus wasn't in, but his administrative assistant managed to contact him briefly. He seemed surprised to see John in San Francisco, but agreed to let him use his office for as long as he was in town, or until a more suitable arrangement could be made.

John worked hard for several hours, immersing himself in the project while he drank mediocre coffee and tried to ignore his growing craving for a cup of tea the way Paul made it. Eventually he gave up trying, locked up his work, and set out to find a cafe that could make tea correctly.

As he went through the lobby, a commotion at the reception desk caught his attention. “Sir, please calm down.”

“Don't tell me to calm down! I've had enough of you bloody Starfleet people getting in the way of the things I'm trying to do!”

John's heart leapt at the familiar voice, and he crossed the space in a few strides. “What are you doing here?”

Paul spun around, and his face morphed through a complex combination of emotions. “One moment, John.” He turned back to the officer behind the desk. “I _told_ you so. Don't fuck with me next time.”

“ _Paul_. She's just doing her job.”

“And _you_.” He stabbed a finger into John's sternum, and John flinched. “I … I can't talk to you here. Where can we go?”

“I was just going to try to find some tea.”

Paul took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, that will do.”

They were quiet as they left the building, and John led them to a place a few blocks south that seemed promising. They ordered before taking a table in an inconspicuous corner. “How did you find me?”

“John, I'm a detective, it's what I do.”

“But really, how?”

He shrugged as he crossed his arms. “Got lucky, actually. I suppose I know you a bit better than I thought. You packed for several days, and when I tried to think where you might go, all I could think of was here. You come here often enough when you're summoned, so I guessed you'd be able to come on your own terms if you chose.”

An employee brought their tea, and looked at them askance before Paul frightened him off with a little glare.

“How did you know I'd be at HQ?”

“Shot in the dark. Good one, as it turned out. I figured if anyone would know where I could find you, it would be them. I hadn't expected them to be quite so difficult, though.”

“It's hard to locate someone unless you're their superior officer.”

“I thought my position at Scotland Yard would carry some weight, but apparently not.”

John stirred a splash of milk into his tea. “Why are you here, Paul?”

“You left in such a hurry, and then you didn't answer my calls, and … and you had the wrong idea. I couldn't let you keep thinking that.”

“What was it that I had so wrong?”

Paul sighed. “I never said that I needed space. I definitely never wanted you … _out of the way_ while I got myself sorted. Quite the opposite, really.”

“The opposite?”

Paul gave him an awkward half-smile. “How can I sort out the way to balance our relationship with my career, without having you in my life?”

John ducked his chin as a little blush tinted his cheekbones. “When you put it that way.”

Paul looked at him carefully. “You really did get hurt, didn't you? In the past.”

“I've been … used. And betrayed.”

“You didn't think I would do the same.”

“I have to look out for myself.”

Paul reached out and laid his hand over John's on the table. “I wish you'd let me look out for you, at least a little.”

John turned his hand over, and gently laced their fingers together. “I … I'll try. I'm not accustomed to being able to depend on someone.”

“I thought that was a Starfleet thing? Everyone has your back, and all that.”

“Things are different in my particular line of work.”

“I'm sorry. It seems awfully lonely.”

“It can be.” He finally looked up at Paul. “It was … terrifying. When I thought you wanted me to go.”

“You seem to be getting that impression from me all too frequently. I wish I knew how to stop it.”

“I'm sure it's not your fault. Like I said, unfortunately I'm used to betrayal.”

“And I'm not used to caring so deeply about someone. I think maybe I'm not very good at showing you how much I love you.”

John squeezed his hand. “You're very good at that.”

“I could always do with some more practice, though. If … if you're up for it, that is.”

He tried to speak casually. “If I understand you correctly, we'll need to get a hotel. The place I'm staying … isn't suitable.”

Paul grinned. “You're sharp, good job. But, I want to be sure you know … it isn't only a physical thing, between us. It's just that's how I'm best at expressing myself.”

John blushed a little darker. “Why don't we finish our tea, then I'll go put on civilian clothing while you find a hotel.”

“You brought civvies?”

“I have what I wore yesterday. It's good enough that I won't be identified by the public.”

Paul let himself continue to relax, and spoke as casually as he could. “Why do you not want to be identified?”

“Just a Starfleet image thing. Especially with my rank, I have to uphold it. Don't want gossip going around that a special agent spent the afternoon with a strange man.”

“What about me showing up at HQ? I did cause a bit of a stir.”

“I can manage that. You're my flatmate, and I disappeared on you and you were worried.”

“Why'd you disappear, then?”

“Something came up on my project that I could only do from here, and I'm afraid I was a bit thoughtless in simply leaving like I did.”

“Sounds reasonable enough. And innocent.”

John touched the back of his hand. “I don't want to hide you. But it's not the right time to tell my co-workers. Not yet.”

“I understand, I really do. If I weren't so well-established in my position, I'd probably keep quiet too.” He took a long drink of tea. “I suppose you ought to go back in to the office, actually.”

“Oh, right. That would be a good idea, especially for spin control on all of this.”

“I can find a way to occupy myself.”

“You can find a hotel for us,” John said softly. “I won't be long, two hours at most. Then I'll go get changed and I'm all yours.”

Paul grinned. “I don't suppose you know any good places?”

“I'd actually prefer something … not near the Fleet. Maybe even not in the City.”

“Is this about not being recognized?”

“A bit. But it's also about wanting to get away with you.” He smiled. “We've got a free mini-holiday.”

Paul grimaced. “Not exactly free. Mary's covering for me and I'm going to owe her big.”

“Oh. Well, if you have to get back --”

“No, no, really, it's all right. This is important. I can spend the night here.”

“It's getting late for you, though,” John observed. “With the eight-hour difference it's about dinner time.”

“In that case.” He finished his tea in a couple of big gulps. “We'd best get going, yeah? I'll try to find a place in the East Bay or something, and we can eat and then … well.”

John felt warmth spreading through his chest, and he smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

Paul took the train into Oakland, and found a small hotel. He waited impatiently until John finally called, and they arranged to meet at a diner around the corner from where they were staying. Paul ordered for both of them, and the food arrived just before John did, carrying his Fleet jacket instead of wearing it. He gave Paul a kiss on the cheek as he sat down and dropped his duffel bag on the floor. “Looks great. What is it?”

“You've got a toasted cheese sandwich, and I have corn chowder. We can share if you want.”

“Mm, I don't think I want to share this.” He took a huge bite of the sandwich.

Paul chuckled. “You got here just in time, it didn't have time to get cold.”

“I'm sorry it took so long. I had to wrap things up at work.”

“It's fine. Your work is important.”

“Not more important than you.”

Paul set down his spoon with a sigh. “John, we just talked about this.”

“Why won't you believe me when I say you're the most important thing in my life?”

“Because I don't think it's true! I know you love me, but we can be in love and still have separate lives.”

“We do have separate lives.”

“You do, maybe. You go up in your office, or you get a call and you're out here. But I've been pulling you into my work, and the only time you're not at the centre of my life is when you're away doing yours.”

“If you don't want me to come along, just say so.”

“No, no, it's not you. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have invited you in the first place, really. I need to be able to make a separation between my professional life and my personal life.”

“Am I special, or did you have this problem before?”

“I've never had a relationship like this before. It's never come up.”

“So I'm special.”

Paul brushed his knees against John's under the table. “Yes, you're special.”

“I'm impatient as well. I believe I was promised mind-blowing sex?”

“I said no such thing.”

John smirked. “But you implied it pretty loudly.”

“Yes, all right. Finish your sandwich and we'll head up. It's not much, but it's clean and comfortable.”

“As long as you're there, that's all I need.”

“Come on, you're making me blush.”

They teased one another gently while they finished their food, and then Paul paid quickly before manhandling John into their hotel room and tearing his clothes off. In the space of a few breaths, they were naked on the bed and John was pressing open-mouthed kisses in a line from Paul's neck to his cock.

“I've never had sex in California before,” Paul gasped.

John paused and looked up at him. “Okay.”

Their eyes met, and Paul started giggling. “I'm sorry, I have no idea why I said that.”

John slid up him and nuzzled under his jaw. “I've never had sex in California before, either.”

Paul only laughed harder, and eventually John sat up and just watched with a little smile as his lover totally lost control, laughing until tears rolled down his temples. Finally he calmed and caught his breath. “I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me.”

“You're happy,” John said, as if it was obvious.

“Well, yes, but I've never gone _insane_.”

“There's nothing wrong with that.” John laid down, and pulled Paul atop him. “Laugh in bed all you like. You're lovely when you laugh.”

“So are you.” He kissed John lightly. “And sex is fairly ridiculous, when you think about it.”

“Oh, absolutely. All sorts of orifices and appendages and fluids and strange noises.”

“Good thing it feels so good, or no one would ever do it.”

“Speaking of,” John rumbled. “Are you or aren't you?”

“What, you want me to verb your noun?”

“If you'd oblige me.”

Paul laughed. “I think that's a thing I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sort of cosmic alignment must be happening: I'm posting this chapter just as my own work-life balance is reaching a major turning point. This means that the coming chapters will probably be a bit slower than we're used to, since I have some Major Stuff happening. But rest assured, they will still be coming! I have at least one scene written for every chapter except 11, so this is definitely not going to get abandoned. Just bear with me while I get my professional life sorted out.


	7. Judas

2258.207

John stared at the readout on his console, not daring to believe what he was seeing.

It had started as an investigation into an odd power drain in an out-of-the-way part of the Section 31 construction facility above Jupiter. John would never have noticed it, except that he was looking to optimise a time-consuming step of the _Vengeance_ 's weapons systems calibration. He had thought that this little cargo bay would be the right place, until he saw the power usage. For an empty cargo bay in drydock, it should have been nearly zero; there's no reason to keep up life support in such a room unless something was in there.

Finding out _what_ was in there was surprisingly difficult, especially since he realized very early that every time he hit another level of security, Admiral Marcus would get a ping that he was trying to access it. And whatever was in there had to be something incredibly top-secret, if even John didn't know what it was.

Over the many months that John had worked with the Admiral, he had developed a deep suspicion not only for his methods, but for his motives. The things they were doing were just on the border of being illegal, from what he understood of Federation law. And the things they were working on were clearly not necessary for Starfleet, outside of Section 31, which was itself not quite praiseworthy.

So John was extremely careful that his prodding into the mysterious power drain would go unnoticed. He was glad that he'd cultivated the impression that he didn't quite understand computer programming. Of course he hadn't, in the beginning, how could he? But he had picked it up quickly, and he now possessed skills that the Admiral couldn't even comprehend.

Finally he broke through to a level that gave him a breakdown of the power usage in the cargo bay: gravity, heating, atmosphere, and about ten kilowatts extra. John could think of only one thing that would use that amount of energy and would be hidden out here. Well, technically, seventy-two things.

He dug deeper, excruciatingly slowly, very careful to make sure his progress went undetected. Finally he found it, buried inside several nested folders on a different server that was local to the drydock. A boring-looking inventory for seventy-two functioning cryogenic tubes, which held his sleeping brothers and sisters.

He stared at it for a long time. Had they been here all along, under his nose? It was brilliant, and utterly evil. They were perfectly safe here, and according to the files he'd found, no one had even been to the cargo bay in over six months. Could he get to them? Would anyone notice? Well, probably yes. But would they notice before it was too late, before John had rescued them?

Eventually he backed out of the files and folders he'd infiltrated, meticulously removing any traces of his presence. If Marcus found out that John knew exactly where his hostages were, there was no doubt that he would make good on his threats to harm them.

 

2258.219

_Beep-beep, beep-beep._

Paul groaned and elbowed John in the ribs. “'S your comm.”

“It's just a text.” He rolled over and wrapped himself around Paul.

_Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep_.

“Ugh.”

“Not just a text?”

“Urgent text.” He flung out an arm and grabbed it off the bedside table, then squinted at the screen.

Paul twisted to look at him. “What is it at this hour?”

“It's evening in San Francisco.”

“Your boss wants something?”

“Video conference.” He tapped at the device, then snapped it shut and all but threw it back onto the table. “But not now. Four hours.”

“Hm.” Paul grabbed John's arm and pulled it around himself. “Plenty of time to sleep, then.”

 

Three hours later, John rolled out of bed without disturbing Paul. He took a quick sonic, put on a uniform, combed his hair back, and was waiting in his office with a cup of tea in hand when dawn broke and the call came in.

John saluted the fuzzy picture. “Admiral Marcus.”

“At ease, Commander. I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I needed to talk with you right away.”

“Of course, Sir. It's not a problem.”

“Good. Look, Harrison, we need to talk about the timeline of your torpedo project.”

John tried as hard as he could not to betray any fear in his expression. Did Marcus suspect? “Is there a problem?”

“Not as such,” the admiral said slowly. “It's just that you're not moving on this as quickly as I'd expected.”

He relaxed minutely. “I am staying on the schedule I gave you.”

“Yes, I know, and that's not the problem. The problem is that I understood that to be a conservative estimate, and frankly I'm a little disappointed that you haven't been working faster.”

“I apologize, Sir.”

“Apologies aren't worth shit to me, Harrison. What I want to know is why you've slowed down so much from the beginning of the project.”

“I … I didn't realize I had slowed down.”

“You know why I brought you onto this program, Harrison. I know who you are, who you _really_ are. I know what you're capable of, so what I don't understand, is where did my superman go? Where's your drive, your ambition? What changed?”

John shook his head. “I don't know, I'm sorry.”

Marcus sighed. “I've been hearing things, through the grapevine. A few months ago when you were on Mars, you weren't alone.”

“That's true. I went with my flatmate. We visited his sister, she's an engineer.”

The admiral raised his eyebrows. “Taking you to meet his family?”

“It's nothing like that,” John lied. “He's just a friend, and I'd never been to Mars.”

"A friend who follows you to San Francisco when you leave unannounced?"

_Shit_.  "Apparently so."

“How did you get a friend like that?”

“Apparently these things just happen when you live with someone.”

“Well, I think you'd better stop this thing from happening. I didn't wake you up so you could traipse around London with your buddy. You're here to work for me, and that's going to be your number one priority. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Whatever friendship you have with your flatmate is over, as of right now. You're sharing the rent and nothing else.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“I'll see you here in San Francisco next Monday. And I expect you to have some developments for me by then.”

“I will, Sir.”

Admiral Marcus gave John one last suspicious look, then disconnected, and the screen was filled with the Starfleet logo. John stared at it, unseeing, taking slow breaths to calm himself as he internalized the conversation he'd just had.

After a few minutes there was a gentle knock at the door. “John?”

“Come in.”

Paul pushed the door open and stepped in hesitantly. “Is everything all right?”

John shook his head. “Yes. And no. It's … complicated.”

Paul moved to stand behind him, and stroked his head as John leaned his head against his belly. “Anything I can do?”

“This is helping.”

Paul ruffled his fingers through John's hair, freeing it from the combed-back style and trying to encourage the curls to come out. John made a contented sound, and Paul pressed his fingers a bit more firmly into his scalp, massaging gently. “Want some breakfast?”

“That depends on what you're offering.”

“Whatever you like, really. We've actually got stuff in.”

John twisted in Paul's arms, and leaned more firmly into him. “Eggs, I think. And toast.”

“I can do that. Need more tea?”

“No, this is good.”

“All right. You go put on something comfortable and I'll cook.” He tried to pull away, but John held on. “What?”

“You don't work today, do you?”

“No, I'm off. You know that.” He tried to peer at John's face. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I just … I need to be close to you.”

“Do you want to go out somewhere?”

“I'd rather stay in,” John murmured. “Have you all to myself.”

“Mmm, sounds like a good plan.” Paul leaned over and kissed him. “Is there anything you want to do?”

“I think what I want ...” He twisted in Paul's arms, leaning more firmly into him. “I want to lie around with you all morning, then take a bath with you. In the evening I want to order a pizza, and watch an action movie while we cuddle on the couch, and then go to bed and make love to you like it's the last night in the world.”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “Do you have some reason to think it might be?”

“No, but I see no reason to save the good sex. It's not as though we'll run out.”

Paul chuckled, and John grinned as love began to push the worry away.

 

John slowly drifted back into consciousness to the sensation of Paul gently twisting his curls. He sighed contentedly. “You really like my hair, don't you?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“No, it's all right, quite all right.” He stretched and yawned, arching his spine and working out a couple of kinks. “What's the time?”

“About two. You haven't been asleep long.”

“Hm.” He snuggled into Paul's side as they lay together in the bed. “So. How are things at work?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, good. Really good.”

“Mary's happy with you?”

Paul smiled. “Yes, she's happy with me again, and the cases have been interesting recently. I think I'm starting to figure this thing out.”

“That's wonderful.”

“It really is, I feel like myself again, at work.” He stroked John's hair. “I haven't been talking about it much, have I?”

“No, since I stopped tagging along.”

“I hope you don't miss it too much.”

“It's quite all right. To be honest, my own work had been starting to get … well. A bit like yours was. And my superior noticed.”

“Everything okay?”

“I'm not sure, really. Things are … a bit tense. I'm not quite meeting his expectations.” John sighed. “And I'm afraid he knows a bit about you.”

“Is this a bad thing?”

“It is when it gets in the way of what he wants from me.”

“What is it that he wants from you?”

“Things that I'm not certain I'm willing to give.”

“Things to do with me?”

“Not directly, no. But I've changed since I met you, for the better, I think. And those changes are showing up in the way I approach my work, which is different than how I was when I was brought on to the project.”

“I'm sorry.”

He rolled over to look at him. “Paul, don't be sorry. I love the man I've become thanks to you. I hardly recognize the person I used to be, and I don't want to go back to that. I can still do my job, and I'm still the only one who can do it. My boss will just have to deal with the fact that it's different now.”

“Are you going to tell him about us?”

John hesitated. “He, um. He actually told me to break it off.”

Paul's eyes widened. “I thought he didn't know.”

“He knows we're friends. He may suspect that there's more to it.”

“You're not … you don't want to end this, though, do you?”

“God, no.” He kissed Paul gently. “I couldn't. I love you far too much.”

Paul wrapped his arms around John's neck and deepened the kiss. “I love you too,” he murmured, breathless. He spread his legs, and John shifted to settle between them, rubbing against his growing arousal.

“Why have you got pants on?” John grumbled.

“Why have you?”

John got up on his knees and shimmied out of them, then kicked them out the side of the bed before grabbing Paul's and pulling them down. “There.” He lay back down atop Paul, who wrapped one leg around him.

“Well done.” Paul shifted his hips to rub their cocks together. “Oh, much better.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” John demanded. He captured his lips, then ran one had down Paul's side to his leg and caressed it as it encircled him, holding him in place.

They kissed hungrily, grinding together as John's long fingers began to tease Paul's arse, prompting a sharp gasp and a groan. Paul fumbled for the lube in the bedside table and squeezed a generous amount onto John's offered hand, which then went back between his legs and penetrated him with easy grace. He pressed down, and John rewarded him with a stroke to his prostate that made him see stars before introducing a second finger. It occurred to a part of Paul's mind that this was going rather quickly, but his body didn't care, it was screaming for John's touch, for _more_. John seemed to understand and worked him harder, stretching him and relaxing him efficiently. Eventually he had three fingers in, and Paul was feeling desperate. “John, I'm ready, please ...”

John pressed a fevered kiss to his mouth before pulling away. He slicked his cock with more lube and lifted Paul's left leg over his shoulder, then pressed into him, quickly sinking in as deeply as possible. Paul tilted his hips a bit and wrapped both legs around John's hips, then pulled his head down and kissed him soundly as John began to thrust, rolling his body into Paul's. They let out simultaneous shuddering sighs into one another's mouths, Paul clenched, and John said “ _oh_ ” with something that might have been reverence.

They rocked together, savouring the hot and slick press and relax, the touches and caresses as the tension slowly grew, murmuring nothings as their mouths occasionally found each other in between pressing kisses to neck and face and shoulder. They made love slowly and gently, as though they intended it to last forever.

After a while they began to grow slick with sweat, and John slipped a bit, thrusting a bit more firmly and at a different angle that stole Paul's breath. “Oh fuck,” he gasped.

John bent over, curling Paul beneath him, and began moving with more urgency. “You close?” he breathed.

“I don't really know. You?”

“Yessss ...”

Paul pressed his head back into the pillow, and John nipped his neck distractedly as he increased the pace even further. He pounded into Paul, finally gasping and moaning his release as Paul clutched his back.

John stilled but for his ragged breathing, but before long he lifted away and reached for Paul's cock, which was still hard between their bellies. He stroked it a few times, then pulled away with a little smirk before sliding down the bed and taking it into his mouth with a little hum that made Paul give a full-body twitch. He slid two fingers back into Paul, whose hands fisted in his hair as he began to swirl his tongue around the head and simultaneously massage him internally.

It was nearly too much. Paul clenched around his fingers as he tried to speak. “Oh fuck, oh John, I'm --”

John let Paul thrust into his throat, and swallowed hard as his orgasm wrenched a strangled cry from his throat.

Paul wasn't aware of John pulling away, but when he came around he was cuddled beside him and they were covered with the sheet. He grinned, and felt a bit stupid. “Hi.”

“Hello.” John kissed him, and Paul could taste the lingering flavour of semen on his lips. “And thank you.”

“You're welcome. For what?”

“For having me.”

“You say that like it's some big sacrifice.”

“Isn't it? It makes your life more difficult.”

“Yes, but only a little. It's worth every moment.”

John tucked his head into the crook of Paul's neck. “You really mean it?”

“'Course I do. Heart-on-his-sleeve Watson here.”

“And what if I get in trouble at work?”

“You mean for being with me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

“But if it does.”

“We'll deal with it. We have each other and we'll deal with it.” He held John tightly. “I love you, no matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit on the short side. Next one will be much longer, and the plot barrels forward.


	8. Dartmoor, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the “Hound of the Baskervilles” chapter. It has romance, adventure, and a little bit of a case, even. I'm sorry it's taking so long, which is why I've broken it into two pieces. The second half is forthcoming.
> 
> For Americans (like me!) who don't know what a CID is, I first heard the term on Midsomer Murders and I looked it up, it stands for Criminal Investigation Department and it's a branch of all British police forces.

2258.359

John jolted awake as the bed bounced violently, and he only barely restrained himself from taking down his “attacker” before his brain woke up enough to realize it was Paul. Instead he froze in place, gripping the sheets and gasping for breath.

“Oh god, I'm sorry,” Paul said, curling up beside him and trying not to laugh. “I thought you were awake.”

“I am now.”

“I'm so sorry!” Paul rolled half atop him and kissed down his jaw. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“It's all right.” John freed an arm and wrapped it around Paul's shoulders. “Nothing to wake you up on Christmas morning like a shot of adrenaline.”

“You wouldn't prefer a cup of tea?”

He levered himself up and flipped them, half-pinning Paul. He nipped under his chin, prompting a breathy gasp. “I think I'd prefer something else first.”

Paul's hands on his shoulders stopped him. “As much as I would _love_ that,” he whispered, “Mrs Hudson is in the kitchen, and while she's very happy for us, she doesn't need a front-row seat.”

John groaned as he rolled out of bed and pulled on his robe. “Whose great idea was that?”

Paul hopped up and gave him a little kiss. “Happy Christmas, John.”

“You're a dick.” John smiled at him. “What happened to sleeping in?”

“Home-made cinnamon buns. Can't you smell them?”

John straightened. “Now that you mention it ...”

“Come and get them, boys!” Mrs Hudson called. “Breakfast is ready and waiting.”

 

The day passed in a leisurely way, with food and sex and rather a lot of simply lying around. When it grew dark, Paul called up a fairly good facsimile of a fire in their hearth. John was sitting in his chair, engrossed in reading something, so Paul perched on the arm to get his attention. “Hey, you.”

John looked up. “Hey.”

“What're you reading?”

John looked at the PADD and sighed. “Technical manual.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Horrendously.” He dropped it to the carpet, and stroked Paul's knee absently. “I know we weren't going to do Christmas gifts, but I got you something.”

“John, you didn't have to.”

“You don't even know what it is yet.” He pulled him down into his lap and lowered his voice. “I got you me.”

Paul chuckled. “Gosh, that's so sweet, but I already have one.”

“Let me finish.” He wrapped his arms around Paul's waist. “I got you me, uninterrupted for the next week.”

Paul's eyes widened. “No. Really?”

“Really. I actually got a promise. I won't be asked to go back to work until the third of January.”

Paul pressed a hand to his mouth as tears began to prickle. “That's exactly what I wanted.”

“I know. That's why I got it for you.”

“Oh my god.” Paul pulled him into a desperate embrace, and wiped his wet eyes on the collar of John's jumper. “Thank you so much.”

“I know you've been wanting to get away,” John said, stroking his back as he drew shuddering breaths. “So I booked us four nights at a bed and breakfast in Dartmoor. We'll spend New Year's there.”

“I don't deserve you.” Paul took John's face in his hands and kissed him fiercely.

“On the contrary.” John brushed a tear from his cheek. “You deserve everything and more.”

“How did you get the time off?”

“Earned it. And my boss was going on holiday.”

Paul grinned. “How lucky.”

“Sometimes I really think I am.”

 

Three days later they locked up the flat and headed west. The bed and breakfast was a quaint inn in Lydford, on the edge of Dartmoor, and John felt instantly at home. “I love it here,” he declared, stepping to the window and looking out at the frosty brown moor and bits of forest in the middle distance, over which the sun was setting.

Paul started unpacking their things. “Fancy going into town this evening?”

“Let's do that tomorrow.” He turned away from the view and glided over to Paul, gently removing him from his task. “I have other plans for you tonight.”

Paul accepted his kiss, but pulled back after just a moment. “Let me put our things away first, all right? Then you can do whatever you please with me.”

John sat on the bed and pouted dramatically, and Paul laughed as he went back to his task. “Don't you worry, there's plenty of time. And if you want to help, you could go check out the restaurant downstairs, maybe make us a dinner reservation.”

John got up with an exasperated huff. “Yes, dear.”

They ate an early dinner before retreating to their room and having rambunctious sex. Afterwards they slipped into lounging clothes, arranged their hair so their previous activities were a bit less obvious, and then spent the rest of the evening reading in front of the fire in the great room. John got up after he nodded off for the third time, and woke Paul long enough to lead him up to bed.

 

In the morning they woke with the sun, had breakfast, and then bundled up in their coats and scarves and set out for the town in their rented car. “How far is it to town?” Paul asked as they pulled away.

“Depends which one. I thought we'd go to Tavistock today, just eleven k south.”

“What's the other one?”

“Okehampton, a bit farther and to the north.”

“Nothing in Lydford itself, then?”

“Not really. Nothing to occupy us for an entire day, certainly.”

The ride was quick, and Tavistock was not exactly bustling, but there were enough people around to make it feel inviting. They browsed the kitchy tourist shops first, then lost themselves in a used bookstore until lunch time. They found a promising-looking pub and ordered stew and beer before taking a table in the window.

They watched people passing outside while they ate and drank, but their attention was particularly drawn when a police car pulled up outside the pub. From it emerged a professionally dressed woman with salt-and-pepper hair and laugh lines, who stepped briskly into the pub.

“Sushanti!”

“Good afternoon, Brian!” She unwrapped her scarf as she sidled up to the bar and struck up a conversation with the proprietor that seemed to be about reports of missing pets and mysterious footprints.

John and Paul caught one another's eyes, and shared a look.

_Are we eavesdropping?_

_I'm fairly certain we are._

Paul shrugged, and they both leaned a little closer and didn't try to disguise their interest.

It didn't take long before she noticed them, and raised her voice just a little, to make it obvious she meant for them to hear. “Who are these two in the window, then?”

“Couple of tourists,” Brian said, winking at them. “Staying in Lydford for their winter holidays, they said.”

“Tourists who seem rather interested.” She moved to their table with a kind smile. “I'm Detective Chief Inspector Sushanti Mukherjee of the Tavistock CID.”

Paul accepted her handshake. “Detective Inspector Paul Watson of the London Met.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Fancy that, another detective in town. One from the city, at that.”

Paul gestured to John. “This is my ...” he began, but trailed off and looked to John for help.

“Commander John Harrison,” he supplied, clasping Mukherjee's hand. “Also of London, though I'm attached to Starfleet.”

“Starfleet! Well, I'm very pleased to meet you both. Actually, it's rather fortuitous that we should run into each other. Do you mind if I … ?”

“Oh, no please.” Paul gestured, and she pulled up a chair. “Something we can help you with, Inspector Mukherjee?”

“We all know each other around here, it's just Sushanti. And actually, yes, I was rather hoping you could help out.”

“What's going on?”

She lowered her voice. “Same thing happens every winter, actually. We're always getting reports from farmers about strange things happening to their livestock, attacks and such. Usually one or two a month. Sometimes people in the towns will even report injuries to their pets.”

“Do people think it's a criminal thing?”

“Not _human_ criminals, no. But you know how this place is with magic. Everybody believes in a demon beast that lives on the moor.”

Paul smirked. “What, like the hound of the Baskervilles?”

“Yes, in fact.” Sushanti leaned forward. “There's a reason Conan Doyle set that story here. The superstitions go back much farther than three and a half centuries.”

“And you look into all of the … claims?”

Sushanti shrugged. “When there's nothing else on, it helps keep the peace. Like right now.”

“So why involve us?” John asked. “It's not as though Paul is Sherlock Holmes.”

 “Am I not?”

 "You're Watson, obviously.”

“Ha!” Paul leaned back in his chair. “So you're Holmes, then?”

“Certainly seems that way. Tall, dark hair. Genius intellect.”

“Modest, too.”

“And we do live in Baker Street.”

Sushanti's jaw dropped. “What, really?”

“Honestly, it's one of the reasons I went for that flat,” Paul said. “I always loved those stories when I was a boy, they're a big part of why I became a detective.”

“At any rate,” Sushanti continued, “people believe these things, and they get frustrated when we fail to actually do anything about it other than send cops out with torches a few times.”

“And you think we'll make a difference?”

“Well sure, calling in the big guns! Brought you two all the way down from London. Brilliant strategy on my part.”

Paul chuckled and gestured at John. “And what about him? Think Starfleet needs to be involved?”

“Certainly can't hurt. Some people are saying it's actually an alien creature, not one that's native to the area.”

“What sort of creature?” John asked.

“There are as many different stories as there are people telling them,” she said. “General consensus is it's a large carnivore, of course. Fangs and claws and such. This year's popular theory is it's a _le-matya_ though there haven't been any reports of poisoning _._ ”

“Of course,” John scoffed.

“Any hard evidence?” Paul said. “It's awfully hard to run an investigation based on rumours.”

“For once, we actually do. People have taken pictures of their animals before they got treated, and left the footprints as they found them. Luckily we're having a cold year so the mud is frozen, which means good scans.”

“Have they matched to anything?”

“Nothing in our database, which means nothing that's native to the area.”

“Alien?”

“Or a hoax.”

John picked up his beer. “I imagine the teenagers around here don't have much else to do.”

“I'm not certain it is teenagers,” Sushanti said slowly. “Tell you what, why don't you boys finish your lunch, and then you can come to the station and I'll show you what we've got.”

“Oh. Well,” Paul said awkwardly. “It's just … we're on holiday, you know.”

“Oh! Oh, no please, if you don't want to, you certainly don't have to.”

“It's not that I don't want to, it's just. …” He gestured towards John. “I've been trying to keep things separate. Work and personal.”

John nudged his knee under the table playfully. “Come on, Paul, I know you're dying to do this. Besides, it sounds fun, and I haven't done a case with you in ages. Anyway I'm not sure I could stand a whole four days here with nothing to do.”

“Come on, it's not that dull.”

“Paul, in the last four hours we've seen sixty percent of the sights in Tavistock. You're taking this case and I'm helping.”

Paul's heart fluttered and he grasped John's hand. “You are far too good to me.”

“Nonsense.”

Sushanti stood up with a fond smile and a hand on Paul's shoulder. “You boys go ahead and finish your lunch, I need to get something myself. The police station is just four blocks away, anyone will help you find it. Just ask for me when you get there.”

 

Half an hour later they arrived at the Tavistock police station, where Sushanti herself greeted them at the front door and then led them up to her office, where a petite woman in her thirties was combing through files. She stood up when they came in. “Oh! Hello.”

“John and Paul,” Sushanti said, “meet Detective Sergeant Liesl Klein, she's helping out with the investigation. Liesl, this is Detective Inspector Paul Watson, from London, and his partner John Harrison.”

“Hello.” She looked at John with a flirtatious smile, which promptly vanished as Paul stepped up and snaked an arm around his waist. John responded by shrugging his shoulder to drape his arm over Paul's shoulders.

“My _partner_ ,” Paul said.

“Oh, you meant … not business.” Liesl coughed nervously. “Yes, I understand. Sorry.”

“Don't mind Paul,” John said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “He gets jealous.”

“I do not.”

John brushed his lips to Paul's temple before he let him go. “Yes you do.”

Liesl's face had grown even pinker. “Two new reports in since this morning, Sushanti,” she interrupted. “Both from the Bowman farm. One of their cats has gone missing, and their collie turned up this morning with a wound on its leg.”

Sushanti rolled her eyes. “Again? That old thing probably was just crawling through bushes again.”

“And the cat?” Paul asked.

“If I had a pound for every time a dotty old farmer around here reported a missing cat, I could own the county,” Liesl said. “I have no idea why they report it _every time_. They usually show up again after a couple of days.”

 

The afternoon flew by as they examined all the evidence that the Tavistock CID had collected, which unfortunately wasn't terribly much, though a few pieces were compelling. Sushanti turned up some sandwiches for dinner in between cross-referencing with the Starfleet databases John had access to, and after dark they all went out to a farm just north of Lydford, where the owners had reported five separate attacks on their sheep in the past month. They sat on the edge of the property, watching in the darkness for anything moving. Sushanti and Liesl were huddled together for warmth and talking softly. John and Paul were a bit less physical with one another, but both fairly humming with excitement that they might actually see something.

By midnight all they had seen were a few owls and a cat – though not one that had been reported missing – and Sushanti declared that enough was enough and they should all go home. “You're welcome to stop by again tomorrow,” she said as they were getting into their cars. “You've been a big help, actually.”

Paul grinned at John. “Thanks, we'd love to.”

“Actually,” Liesl said, “I was thinking we should get out to a few more farms tomorrow. There's probably no evidence left, but it's worth a look. And besides, they're on holiday, no reason for them to come in early.”

“Good idea,” Sushanti said. “How about we meet you for lunch at the inn, then?”

“Sure, noon?”

“It's a date. Good night, boys, see you tomorrow.”

“Good night.” He turned, right into John's chest. “Hey, what are you--”

He was cut off by a kiss. “I need you,” John breathed.

Paul watched out of the corner of his eyes as Sushanti and Liesl pulled out onto the road. “Not here. We'll go back first.”

It only took ten minutes to get back to the inn. John pushed Paul up against the door as soon as it closed behind them and kissed him hard, his still-cold fingers already fumbling with the closures on Paul's clothing. Paul had a bit more luck, and before long his fingers touched bare skin on John's back, prompting a hiss. “You're freezing.”

“So are you.” He captured John's mouth again and pulled off his coat, then his other layers one by one until he was down to a t-shirt and his trousers.

“No fair,” John gasped. “You're still dressed.”

Paul let go and began stripping himself efficiently while John simply stared, eyes dilated wide with excitement. “Take off your shoes,” Paul prompted as he began to do the same.

John toed them off and kicked them across the room, then made short work of the rest of his clothes and bodily tackled Paul onto the bed. He slithered down his body and peeled his pants off with his teeth, to the sound of Paul making a desperate sort of noise deep in his throat. The sound turned into a whine when he took Paul's cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip and sucking lightly. Paul thrust upwards, and John pulled off with a little _pop_. “None of that,” he rumbled.

“Come _on_ , stop teasing! I've been desperate for you all day.” He pulled John up and kissed him soundly, arms winding around the back of his neck as their bodies pressed together. John hummed with contentment and crushed him down into the soft mattress with such force that it seemed like he was trying to physically merge their bodies together. Paul felt totally surrounded by him, and every inch of his body tingled with pleasure and anticipation as their kiss deepened ever further.

Eventually John rolled them over, spreading his legs as he pulled Paul atop him. “Please,” he whispered, need evident in his voice.

Paul didn't wait for his brain to catch up as he grabbed the lube from the bedside table where they'd left it the previous day and slicked himself first before reaching with shaking fingers between John's legs.

John's head fell back and a groaning sigh escaped him at his lover's touch.

“All right?” Paul asked.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “Come on, I'm ready.”

“You're not, I've only just started.”

“I really _am_.” He wrapped his legs around Paul's hips and pulled him in with his heels. “You won't hurt me, I promise.”

Paul exhaled. “Okay.” He pressed against his entrance and John panted, great gasping breaths, as his body stretched to accept him. It was tighter than usual, but it was clear that John's trembling was from pleasure, and Paul could barely see straight as he sank home. John's legs were like a vice around him, limiting his motions to gentle rocking and grinding.

“Oh, fuck.”

Paul dropped his forehead to John's chest to hide his grin. “I know I'm good when you swear.”

“I – I never swear.”

“Just did.”

“I never – _Jesus_ ,” he gasped as Paul nipped the side of his neck. “God, I don't even care.”

“You're so fucking hot when you lose control.” Paul pressed in hard, bowing John's body beneath him, then gave a few quick thrusts that prompted a high gasp and fingernails digging into his back.

After a few more minutes of Paul's careful attention, John's limbs began to tremble.

Paul pulled back enough to look at him. “Okay?”

A blotchy flush covered his chest, and had spread up his neck to his face. His eyes were slightly open, glassy and unfocused. “I'm so _close, please_ Paul … _”_

Paul pressed a kiss to his full lips as he reached between their bodies and grasped John's cock. With only a few firm tugs, John stiffened and then cried out, trembling and spasming as his orgasm tore through him. As he came down, the cries resolved into actual words, repeated over and over, chanted like a mantra into Paul's ear.

“ _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you ..._ ”

Paul's heart felt like it was about to burst, and it was enough to send him over the edge. He fell until finally his muscles turned to rubber and he didn't know which way was up, and he offered no resistance when John pushed him off to the side and they both lay there for a long while, breathing heavily in the warm air that was fragrant with lovemaking.


	9. Dartmoor, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little bit of injury towards the middle of the chapter and therefore a mild gross-out potential. For those not “up” on anatomy, the tibia is the shin bone.
> 
> My profound apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. There are three more, and they should come fairly quickly. Chapters 10 and 11 are each about half done, and chapter 12 is completely finished, so there will only be a slight pause between the last two.

2258.364 

John and Paul were dressed and eating lunch together in the dining room when the local detectives arrived. Liesl joined them at their table while Sushanti went into the kitchen. John raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Oh, she didn't tell you?” Liesl said. “Her husband is the head chef here.”

“Fancy that,” Paul said. “Small world.”

“Small town, more like.” Liesl shrugged out of her coat. “She'll probably tell you, but we've got some new reports in this morning.”

Just then Sushanti emerged from the kitchen, giggling and pursued by a middle-aged man sporting a greying beard and a chef's jacket.

“That's her husband?”

Liesl nodded. “Luther Raymond.”

They both disappeared into the kitchen again, and Sushanti emerged a moment later with a plate of chips that she set down in front of Liesl as they both sat at John and Paul's table.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized, still slightly flushed. “He's gotten so goofy ever since Phoebe came back for her winter holidays.”

“Phoebe?” Paul asked.

“Our daughter. She's in her second year at Oxford. Luther misses her a lot more than he lets on.” She popped a chip into her mouth. “Speaking of Luther, I suppose you two boys are coming to the party here tomorrow evening, aren't you?”

“That was the plan, yes,” Paul said. “Will you be here?”

“Of course! It's Luther's biggest day all year, he's putting together a gourmet spread. Liesl, are you coming?”

Liesl shrugged. “I don't know, maybe. I couldn't find a date.”

“You could take Phoebe. She's on the fence too.”

Liesl rolled her eyes. “You can stop trying to set me up with her, neither of us is gay.”

“I'm not trying to set you up! I think you could have fun as friends.”

John and Paul exchanged a glance as the two women bickered a minute longer, and then Sushanti finally sighed and turned to them. “Anyway, boys, sorry to barge in on you like this, but we had some new evidence come in last night.”

“And you were hoping we'd take a look,” John finished.

“If you don't mind.”

Paul grinned. “Of course we don't mind!”

 

It was late afternoon when the four of them left the station again, John and Paul in the back of Sushanti's car and practically vibrating with excitement as they headed out to one of the farms that had seen a second livestock attack the previous night. The evidence from the scene wasn't much to go on, but they had all rallied behind John's theory that the creature was an actual creature. The evidence seemed to point to a sehlat, though how a Vulcan carnivore had found itself in Dartmoor was beyond all of them.

They hiked the grounds until twilight deepened into night, and Liesl started to shiver. “D'you think we've done enough for tonight?”

“Could be.” Sushanti pulled her coat closer around her. “How about you boys? Ready to pack it in?”

They exchanged a look, and grinned. “Actually, no,” Paul said. “Would it be all right if we stayed? We've got torches and comms, we'll call if we need anything.”

“I suppose that's okay.” Sushanti checked her watch. “Just don't be out past midnight, all right?”

John rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mum.”

“I mean it,” she said, nudging him. “It disturbs the animals and then the farmers stop letting us traipse around their property.”

“Right, sorry, got it,” Paul said. “Midnight's hours away anyhow, we should be fine.”

So Liesl and Sushanti left, and John and Paul strolled across the moor together, shoulder to shoulder and then arm in arm. After a while their attention drifted a bit from their surroundings, and they found a spot to sit on a bit of a rocky outcrop that was sheltered from the wind. They murmured quietly to one another for a while, until words turned transformed into kisses and their breath was heavy.

Paul shifted on the rock, but didn't remove his hands from where they were clutching John's back. “Should we maybe … ?”

“I think so, yes. A bit cold out here for … that.”

After another minute of kissing they managed to get to their feet and their lights found the path that led back towards the inn. They held hands as they walked, and had been going for about five minutes before John tensed and stopped. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

Paul held his breath and listened, and there, he did hear something, a distant rustling to their left. He glanced at John. “Sounds like a big animal in the trees.”

“Should we have a look?”

“I'm not sure that's a great idea. We're not armed. What if it is actually a sehlat?”

“I'm not sure it's dangerous, if it's been eating. And it hasn't come around by people before.”

Paul wrapped his arms around himself. “I don't suppose I can stop you, can I?”

“Hm.” John shone his torch in the direction of the sound. There was a deep tree-lined ravine beside them. The path split about a hundred metres back to lead around the other side, and rejoined about two hundred metres ahead. “I'll go back that way and see what I can see. You stay on this side, it might be down there. Get your camera out in case it comes up this way.”

“You sure the path goes through? Can't tell for the trees.”

“I'll come back if it doesn't.” He pressed a quick kiss to Paul's cheek. “I'll meet you up ahead.”

“All right. Be quick.”

He jogged carefully back to the fork, and then went into the trees. He could still see the light of Paul's torch for a bit, until the trees got thicker. He listened carefully as he went, and was about halfway around when he heard the rustling, much closer than it had been before, and a jolt of adrenalin shot through him. It wasn't in the ravine, it was-- 

The sound came again, closer still, and the reptile part of his brain was screaming at him to _run, run fast, run NOW!_ But he was better than his instincts, and this creature was probably afraid of him. No reason to panic, none at all.

He held his ground and shone the torch towards the sound. There was a sort of startled grunt, and a flurry of motion as the creature moved – _away,_ it was moving away from him. Or was it?

Suddenly he wasn't sure, and was acutely aware that he was essentially defenceless.

Perhaps there was something to that flight instinct. He moved ahead, walking quickly, trying not to run on the slippery path.

He heard more rustling, and his higher brain functions surrendered to the demands of millions of years of evolution. He ran.

John was maybe fifty metres from the main path when his left foot got caught in a surprisingly deep dip in the ground, and he bit back a scream of pain as his tibia surrendered to the stress and fractured. He fell hard, scraping his hands on the ice and gravel and whacking his head on a rock on the side of the path. His torch skittered away and fell into the ravine. Blood was already trickling into his eye by the time he caught his breath enough to cry out. “Paul!”

“John? Where are you?”

He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the world spinning, then freed his foot and squinted in the darkness at his leg; even without seeing clearly he could tell it was a nasty break. “I'm here, follow my voice.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I'm okay. I'm hurt but I'm okay.”

“You're hurt? How badly?” Paul appeared through the trees, and sucked in a breath of shock as his light fell on John. “Oh my god.”

“It looks worse than it is, but I need your help.”

Paul looked like he was about to panic. “It looks fucking awful, John, you need a hospital. I'll call Sushanti and--”

“ _No,_ ” he said through his teeth. “I need you to stay calm and do as I tell you. It will be okay. Crouch down next to my foot.”

Paul did as he was told, and tucked the torch between his shoulder and chin so it was shining on John's leg.

“All right, now I need you to hold my foot still while I set the break. It's going to be … weird, but you have to hold on _very tight_. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Paul gasped. He gripped John's foot firmly with both hands.

John took one last close look at what he could see of his leg. He could feel the bone already trying to knit back together; he had to do this fast or it would heal wrong. With a deep breath, he yanked backwards, separating the ends of the bone, and then eased them back together in what looked to be a straight line.

Paul had gone very pale. “Doesn't that hurt?”

“Yes,” John gritted. “But it's better now. I need something for a splint. Two sticks and something to tie them with.”

Paul jumped up, and came back a few moments later with a pair of small branches. “This all right?”

John took them. “It'll have to do.” He reached to remove his scarf, but Paul stopped him.

“No, you need to stay warm. Use mine.” He pulled it off and handed it to John, who took it gratefully. He would have been all right without, but his body was putting all of its resources into healing his variety of wounds, major and minor, and he was beginning to shiver.

He quickly tied the branches to the sides of his leg – the swelling wasn't as bad as he'd feared – and then looked to Paul. “I think I can make it, but you'll need to help me up.”

Paul pocketed the torch, and in the darkness hooked his arms under John's and lifted him straight up. John got his good leg underneath himself, and breathed a sigh of relief. “There's no way you can walk on that,” Paul said.

John tested it gingerly. He could feel the healing beginning again, but he could tell walking would be both painful and a bad idea. “We're only a kilometre from the inn, and the path is pretty good. If you support me I can sort of hop.”

Paul's arm tightened around his waist. “Are you sure? I think I could carry you, if you need.”

John almost laughed. _I love this man._ “I don't think that's necessary, but thank you.”

 

2258.365

John's leg was still swollen and painful when they woke up in the morning. He hopped into the bathroom, and when he got done Paul was just coming back in. “Where'd you go?”

“Got you a couple of presents.” He held up a pair of crutches in one hand, and a lower leg brace in the other.

John sat heavily on the bed. “Where in the world did you get those?”

“They sent someone into town this morning. Last night I went down to reception and asked for them, after you fell asleep.”

“I don't remember that.”

“You were out pretty hard. Must have been the painkiller. Here, let me put this on you.” John leaned back and lifted his legs onto the bed. Paul untied the splints they had rigged up the night before. “How is it?” 

“Better.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I don't understand why you wouldn't go to the hospital last night. It broke really badly.” He wrapped the boot around John's leg and started fastening it. “Too tight?”

“No.” John took a deep breath. “It wasn't actually broken, I think. Just dislocated or sprained or something.”

Paul looked at him accusingly. “Whatever you say.”

There was an awkward silence before John spoke again. “You put it on over my pyjamas.”

“You were thinking of going anywhere today?”

“I'm sure Detective Mukherjee will want to talk to us.”

“I've already called her, she's coming here.”

“Wait, _here_ here?”

Paul smiled fondly at his confusion. “She's going to meet us down at breakfast in half an hour.” He got up and grabbed the crutches. “Here, give these a try. Do you think you can manage the stairs, or should I ask about the lift?”

It turned out John could manage the stairs, after a bit of trial and error, and they made their way slowly down into the dining room.

Sushanti arrived right on time. “Hello, boys,” she said as she came into the dining room. “Good lord, John, what happened to your leg?”

John looked down at where it was propped up on a chair. “Oh. I tripped last night, while we were out on the moor. Sprained my ankle.”

“Why didn't you tell me? I could have taken you to the hospital in Tavistock, got it all fixed up in no time. No reason to have to go through all this.”

“It's all right.” John glanced at Paul, who was apparently very interested in his granola. “I don't really like hospitals, and it's not that bad. It'll be good as new soon enough.”

Sushanti looked between them awkwardly. “Well, at any rate, I'm glad you're okay.” She took the chair on Paul's other side, giving John space for his leg. “So did you find anything, other than a malicious root?”

“Not really,” Paul said. “It was all pretty quiet.”

“I did actually see something,” John said. “When I went into the wood. It ran away when I shone my light on it, but it was big, and furry.”

Paul was staring at him. “You didn't tell me any of that!”

“I did have other things on my mind. And it didn't seem important, since it was running away by the time you came to rescue me.” He set his hand next to Paul's and touched him gently, which seemed to placate him. “Anyway, I didn't see it well, but it could have been a sehlat.”

Sushanti stayed a little bit longer before she had to go back to the station, but promised to see them at the inn's party that evening. The weather was milder than it had been, so John and Paul spent part of the afternoon in the garden, enjoying the weak sunshine, then had a nap together.

When evening came, they changed into festive woolly jumpers and went downstairs to the great room, where they could hear the party beginning to ramp up. John settled into an armchair by the roaring fire and put his foot up. Paul collected plates of snacks for both of them, and they chatted with the other guests who came by. Paul managed to turn the story of John's broken leg – though a sprain was the official story – into an exciting tale of adventure on the moor. Sushanti introduced them to her husband Luther, and they chatted until the countdown to midnight began.

Paul perched on the arm of John's chair as the assembled crowd marked the last few seconds. “Happy new year!”

John's eyes darkened as Paul leaned in and kissed him. He had intended for it to be a simple kiss, suitable for the public, but John's arms went around his back and pulled him practically into his lap. He held on, deepened the kiss, overcome.

They broke apart when Sushanti announced her presence with a cough, and handed them both glasses of champagne. There was a knowing glimmer in her eyes. “Happy new year, you two.”

“Thanks, happy new year to you.” Paul was slightly dismayed to find himself out of breath, but he didn't have long to think about it before John snatched away his unfinished glass and was kissing him again.

They continued for a few more minutes, until Paul felt someone watching them and looked up. Sure enough, a Vulcan couple across the room was looking on unabashedly and talking softly to one another.

John followed his gaze. “Anthropologists?”

“Could be. They seem pretty interested.”

“Perhaps we should go to bed.”

“I think that's a good idea.” Paul retrieved John's crutches and helped him to his feet. “D'you think they'll follow us?”

“Shh,” John said, glancing in their direction as they left the great room. “They have fantastic hearing.”

“And our room is right above this one. You think they'll be able to hear anyway?”

“Possibly.” John focussed on navigating the stairs. “If we decide to let them.”

Paul chuckled. “That sounds like a challenge.”

 

2259.01

There was a note under their door when they woke the next morning, asking them to call the Tavistock CID in the afternoon. They did after they had lunch, and Liesl answered and excitedly related the developments of the last twelve hours. It turned out that the Vulcan “anthropologists” weren't there on holiday, but rather were attempting to track down the sehlat on the moor. The Vulcan embassy in London had finally gotten in touch, and with their help the authorities managed to capture the creature. Frustratingly, the Vulcans were silent on where it had come from, and how it had escaped.

After another day of resting, it was time for John and Paul to go back home to London. John could walk without the crutches, though he seemed relieved when they got their seats on the train and sat down.

“All right?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, fine. Still hurts a little.”

“Need anything for the pain? I've still got something.”

“No, it's all right.”

“Okay.” They sat in silence for a little bit before Paul cleared his throat awkwardly. “It did … it did heal rather quickly.”

John feigned nonchalance. “Did it? It doesn't seem unusual to me.”

Paul watched him as the train began to move, then sighed and looked out the window. He could push the issue, but was it really worth it? John was all right, he was healing, and wasn't that what mattered? It wasn't worth it to cast a shadow over the end of their holiday by questioning the strange matter of John's health.

John gazed at Paul's profile as he stared out the window. _I want to tell you. I want so much to tell you, I hate lying to you, I hate it. I wish I didn't have to keep secrets from you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sehlat is a large Vulcan mammal, which has been described as "a teddy bear with fangs". Spock had a pet sehlat when he was a child. (TAS: Yesteryear, which is a great episode.) You can read more about them at [Memory Alpha](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Sehlat).


	10. The Real Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The intent of this chapter is not to make apologies or excuses for the mistakes made by JJ Abrams and his crew. It was entirely inappropriate to cast Benedict Cumberbatch to play Khan Noonien Singh. This chapter features rather major deviations from canon (TOS and Reboot) because I didn't like what they gave me, and I'm trying to turn down the suck.

2259.28

John spent the flight from Jupiter to San Francisco checking and double-checking all the figures he'd run in his head. He couldn't risk committing them to any of the computers in Section 31. Even though it was incredibly unlikely that anyone would be able to find something that he hid, it was a chance he couldn't take. The lives of his brothers and sisters depended upon his secrecy and speed, and with the way things were going, he knew he would have to be faster than ever.

Paul met him at the shuttle terminal when he disembarked, and managed to hold himself back from throwing himself at the other man. Instead, he relished the surprise and delight on John's face. “Welcome home!”

John was grinning. “How did you know when I'd be coming in?”

“Lucky guess. Here, let me take that.” Their fingers brushed as he took John's bag. “How was everything?”

“Oh, the usual. Top secret.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

They got back to Baker Street quickly. The door had barely closed before Paul was running his fingers through John's hair to free the curls, and John was crowding Paul up against the kitchen table and moaning into his mouth. They stumbled into the bedroom and stripped, and their joining was fast and intense.

Afterwards, John cleaned up quickly, then snuggled back under the covers, nose-to-nose with his lover. “Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“I have to ask you something.”

“So ask.”

He took a deep breath, and held Paul close. “Will you marry me? Please?”

Paul sighed, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Oh, John. I love you, I really do.”

“That means no.”

“It means no.”

“Still?”

“Still.” He kissed him again, and held tightly so he couldn't squirm away. “I want to say yes, so much. But I can't.”

“Why do you stay with me, if you won't marry me? I know you want more.”

“I'm hoping that someday I'll be able to take that step. I hope that someday you won't have to keep your secrets any more, and that you'll be able to totally open up and I can really have _all of you_ , not just the declassified bits.” He stroked John's back. “But in the meantime, I'm happy with you. _Very_ happy.”

“I'm happy too.”

“I know you are, darling.”

“I need to be with you. I have to have you in my life. I don't think I could live without you.”

Paul pulled back far enough to look at him. “Are you all right?”

“It's just ...” He twisted onto his back. “I've been realizing the … the impermanence of things. And I can't let that happen with you. I need you, Paul. Here, with me, beside me. Partner or husband or whatever.”

Paul laid his head on John's shoulder and curled an arm around his waist. “I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Even if we don't have a form filled out, I'm in this with you for the long term.”

“Why is it only the formality that hinges upon my telling you everything?”

Paul stilled for a long moment. “I'm not sure, really. But it does.” He sighed. “Maybe it's that when it's all about love, I can ignore practicality. But when we're bound together by the law, that's _everything_ , even the unsightly bits. I just need to be fully informed.”

 

2259.35

The dinner dishes were clean and drying on the counter, and John joined Paul on the couch. Paul set down his book as John stretched out, leaning his head against Paul's chest. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he said, “I have something to tell you.”

“I thought there was something on your mind.”

“It's … it's a big something.”

“I can take it, tell me.”

“It's about my past. Why I am … the way I am.”

He felt Paul's breath catch, his heart speed up in his chest. “Oh. Well, I'm all ears.”

John shifted, then sat up again so he could face Paul. “I'm over three hundred years old.”

Paul blinked rapidly. “You … what? How is that possible?”

“I was put in cryostasis in 1964, at the age of thirty. Starfleet woke me a couple of months before we met.”

“Why in the world were you in cryostasis? I didn't think that technology even existed in the twentieth century.”

“It wasn't public knowledge. The superpowers of the time had things that didn't come to light until centuries later, if at all.”

“So, why you?”

“I'm … different. You noticed when we were in Dartmoor, I have superhuman healing powers, and I possess incredible strength.” John took a deep breath. This was it. “I'm genetically engineered, a eugenics Übermensch. Designed to be the ultimate warrior-statesman, to take control of the Earth and bring her out of the Cold War of the mid-Twentieth Century into a new era of peace.”

Paul stared at him in disbelief for a very long time, and John grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Finally Paul spoke. “I think I can understand why they wanted to … get rid of you, at the time.”

John nodded. “We were bred to be the new rulers of the human race, to lead the world into a better future. But they got scared. We decided it was best to wait for a time and place when we would be welcomed, so we froze ourselves and set out in the best space ship that was available at the time.”

“We?”

“I'm not the only one. There are seventy-two others, my crew, my family. I am … one of their leaders. The second in command, actually. My captain and the rest are still in cryostasis, waiting for the right time to wake up.”

“Where are they now?”

John shook his head sadly. “I'm afraid that's something I still can't tell you. Their lives depend upon total secrecy.”

“I understand.” Paul picked up his glass of wine from the table and took a rather large sip before he spoke again. “So what's your real name, then?”

John grimaced. “William Pitt the Third.”

“You have _got_ to be joking!”

“I'm afraid not. If it's any consolation, I didn't have a say in the matter. Our names were given to us by those responsible for our creation.”

“And they thought naming you after prime ministers was the best idea.”

“I was meant to be the leader of the British Commonwealth, so yes.”

“Fair enough.”

“We were bred to be ruthless leaders, to take control in a time defined by fear and chaos. Certain high-ranking Starfleet officers decided that, with the events of 2233 and the Vulcan Genocide in 2258, Starfleet needed to be poised to be more aggressive. So they sought us.”

“And gave you a new name. William Pitt isn't exactly inconspicuous.”

John gave him a conspirational smile. “Starfleet don't know that my name is William Pitt.”

“What? But you just said--”

“I know. But that's a secret even from Admiral Marcus, the one in charge of the program. He thinks my real name is Khan Noonien Singh.”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “You don't look like a Singh.”

“I really don't, do I?”

“So why in the world does he think that's your name?”

John shrugged. “Because I told him it was. And partly because there were still some records from the time of our departure that named Khan as our leader. I suppose Marcus assumed the automatic systems would wake the captain first, but we had planned for that. Khan would not be awakened – would not be risked – until the time was right. I was originally the third in command, but our second was lost sometime before Starfleet recovered us in late 2257.”

“And he didn't think it was suspicious that instead of being … what, Indian? Pakistani? You're obviously English.”

“I think he found it suspicious at first. He seemed unsure the first time he addressed me, but I assured him that I was the captain, that I was Khan Noonien Singh, and he believed me. Or at least, he didn't press it any further, and there was no way for him to find out who I really was without waking one of the others. But we were all trained that the first awakened would assume power and claim to be Khan unless it was safe for all of us to wake up.” He sighed sadly. “It should have been Padma. She was absolutely brilliant at this sort of thing, and looked the part, too. She was perfect. But her cryotube was damaged and she died.”

Paul looked at his hands awkwardly. “I'm sorry.”

“Thank you.” There was a beat of silence before John understood the subtext. “Oh, Paul, it wasn't like that.”

“You were obviously close to her.”

“I was – I _am_ – close to all of them. They're my brothers and sisters, my family.  I've known them my whole life, and from my point of view, it's only been about a year since I last saw them.” He leaned into Paul, and folded his legs so that one was invading Paul's personal space. “But I'm not in love with any of them. I'd never been in love with anyone, actually. Until you came along.”

“Yes, all right, no need to get touchy-feely.” He caressed John's thigh as it lay across his lap. “I realize this may be … painful, but did you lose others as well?”

John nodded. “Yes. Originally there were eighty-four of us, but eleven were lost.”

“I'm sorry. Oh, sorry, I'm repeating myself.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Gosh, it's what we do, isn't it? We apologize.”

“It's all right. I appreciate it. It's not been easy, being without them.”

“I suppose not.”

There was an extended, awkward silence. Finally Paul cleared his throat. “So. John Harrison?”

“What? Oh, right, my name.”

“Your _new_ name.”

“It's hardly new any more, I've been using it for a year.”

“But where did it come from?”

“Admiral Marcus wanted me to pick an official name, something boring to use in Starfleet that wouldn't arouse suspicion. So I picked John William Harrison.”

“Your middle name's William?”

He shrugged. “I thought it fitting to keep a part of my original name.”

“You never use it.”

“You never use 'Hamish'. It's just an initial on my ID card, really.”

“That's fair, I suppose.”

Silence fell over them again, and Paul continued absently stroking John's knee.

Eventually John cleared his throat. “So … now that I've told you ...”

“Oh, John, please, not now.”

“Not now what?”

“I recognize that tone.” He raised a hand to touch John's cheek in a comforting gesture. “You're going to ask me to marry you again, and I don't want to say no again.”

“Then _don't_ say no.”

“Darling.” He pulled him into a tight hug, and John pressed his face into Paul's shoulder. “I'm … I'm not saying no. I don't want to say no, but I need time.”

“Time for what?” His voice was slightly muffled.

“Time to think. You've hit me with an awful lot just now. It's a paradigm shift.”

“I love you.”

Tears prickled at Paul's eyes. “God, I know. I love you too. Just … give me some time to be practical, okay?”

John pulled back enough to kiss him. “Okay,” he murmured against Paul's lips. “But I can't wait much longer.”


	11. Beginnings, Part 1

2259.40

John half-woke when the mattress shifted as Paul climbed into bed beside him, and he rolled lazily to face him. “Hello.”

“No need to wake up, I'm just home from work. Go back to sleep.”

“No, it's all right. What time is it?”

“Nearly six.”

He sighed. “I should wake up, then. I have a conference call with the Admiral at 0700.”

Paul's hand on his chest stopped him from moving away. “John, before you go.”

“Hm?”

“I have something to tell you.”

There was a seriousness in Paul's voice that spoke to something deep within John, and suddenly he was breathless with anticipation. “What is it?”

Paul took a deep breath. “It's … yes.”

He blinked in confusion, still trying to clear the cobwebs from his sleepy mind. “Yes, what?”

“Yes to your question.”

“My ques-- _oh!_ ” He sat up and took Paul's hands. “No, this won't do. Please can we do it properly?”

“Properly?”

“Here, come here.” He climbed off the edge of Paul's side of the bed, and pulled him up to sitting as he got down on one knee on the chilly floor. “Paul Hamish Watson, will you marry me?”

Paul's face split into a huge grin. “Yes.” He urged John up to sit beside him, and kissed him soundly. “Yes, John William Harrison, I will marry you.”

“Thank you,” John gasped, kissing him again and again. “Thank you, _thank you_.” He pulled back a little and wiped at his face. “Oh god, look at me, I'm crying.”

Paul kissed a tear off his cheek. “I'm sorry I had to make you wait so long. I hope it's worth it.”

“It is. It's worth everything.” He gathered Paul into his arms and held him so tightly he could barely breathe. “The waiting doesn't matter. I've never been happier.”

 

John's conference call went well, he thought, and he didn't think he was too obviously distracted. He caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and saw his own besotted grin, which he managed to turn off until he returned to bed and gathered Paul in his arms, gently enough not to wake him.

Later in the day, after they woke up properly, Paul called Harry. He was uncertain whether she'd be in, and didn't know if he wanted to leave everything in a message, but he was spared from deciding when she finally answered. “Paul! You've got great timing, I was just a few minutes from heading off to work. What's up?”

“I've got news.”

“Yeah? Out with it.”

He took a deep breath. “John and I are engaged.”

Her eyes widened. “You finally said yes!”

Paul grinned back. “I finally said yes.”

“Congratulations, Paulie! Oh my god. This means he, you know, told you everything?”

“He did, almost a week ago.”

“So long?”

“There was a lot. It took some time to sink in.”

“God, I'm so glad he finally told you his secrets.”

Paul glanced up at John, who was scrolling through a PADD on the other side of the sitting room and pretending not to listen. “Yeah, me too. And I can understand why he wouldn't tell me at first, it's actually really sensitive information.”

“So you can't tell me any of it?”

“No chance in hell, sorry.”

“Oh well. But you're getting married! This is fantastic. Have you set a date yet?”

“No, but we want it to be soon. When could you get some time off to come home?”

“You don't need to plan it around me.”

“We do, though. You're our only family.”

“He doesn't have anyone?”

“No. Just me, and I've just got you, and Mary from work, and Mrs Hudson. It's going to be a small thing at the courthouse.”

Harry picked up something off her desk and considered it. “I've got some time off banked; I didn't really think I would ever use it. If I put in the request soon I can probably get a week next month, assuming this construction phase stays on schedule.”

“That would be brilliant. How soon will you know?”

“Couple of days, tops. My CO is good about this sort of thing.”

“Great. Call me when you find out, okay?”

“Sure thing, Paulie.” She grinned. “I'm so happy for you. I've got to go now. You call Mary next, okay?”

“I will. Talk to you later?”

“You bet.”

 

2259.46

John was up to his ears in wedding planning, and he didn't much like it. “How is it that there's so much to do for such a simple thing?”

Paul leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Paperwork. It's a never-ending trial.”

“You'd think that after thousands of years, society would have found a way to make this easier.”

“You'd think.” He stood up. “Let's take a break. Go for a walk maybe, while it's still light outside.”

John wrinkled his nose. “It's cold out.”

“It's not that cold! Positively balmy today. You've been spoiled by climate control. Come on, we'll go to Regent's Park.”

They put on their coats and went out, strolling hand in hand up Baker Street until they reached the park, where they found they were not the only ones taking advantage of the mild weather. They chatted as they walked, first commenting on the clear skies – a “very British thing to do” according to John – and then moving on to gentle teasing and flirting. They found a bench and sat, leaning close together, nearly close enough to kiss, breathing one another's warm air as they watched the other people go by.

In the middle distance, John spotted a pair of women, one of whom looked familiar. The other carried a baby in a sling. He gestured, and Paul followed his gaze. “Is that … ?”

“You know, I think it is. Mary!”

She turned, and beamed when she saw them. After a quick word to the woman with the baby, they both came towards the bench where the two men had risen to meet them. “Paul!” They exchanged a brief kiss on the cheek. “Ashley, this is my former DI Paul, and his fiance John. Boys, my sister Ashley and my nephew Eric.”

“So pleased to meet you,” Ashley said. “Congratulations on your engagement! Mary's told me, you must be so excited.”

“Thanks very much, we are,” Paul said. “And congrats to you too on the new baby. How old is he?”

“Nine weeks today.” She bounced him gently and he made a happy gurgle.

“He's really adorable.”

“Would you like to hold him?”

Paul's face lit up. “Could I really?”

“Sure.” She stepped close, and little Eric transferred hands without a fuss.

Paul stared down, gently touching his tiny face as John laid a hand on his shoulder. “I didn't know you liked children.”

“I don't know many,” Paul said. “Babies are just the cutest though, aren't they?”

John raised his eyebrows. “Are we going to have to talk about having kids?”

Paul chuckled. “Not yet, don't worry.”

“You do look wonderful with a baby in your arms,” Mary said. “Both of you. I bet you'd make great dads.”

John flushed and Paul cooed at the baby. “Your mummy had better watch out, so I don't run away with you.”

“Paul, what would we do with a baby?”

“We'd pinch his little cheeks, and blow raspberries on his little tummy!”

John rolled his eyes. “I think you've had quite enough.”

Paul pressed a quick kiss to Eric's forehead before giving him back to Ashley. “By the way, Mary, we've set a date for the wedding.”

“Oh, excellent. When is it?”

“Next month, on the twentieth.”

“Wonderful. I can't wait to meet your families.”

Paul and John shared an awkward look. “Just my sister, actually,” Paul said. “John doesn't have anyone.”

“Well, that's not quite true,” Mary said with a little smile. “He's got you, doesn't he?”

John wrapped an arm around his shoulders and nudged his temple with his cheek. “I do have you. And I think it's about time we went home, it's getting cold and we still have things to do.” His voice dropped into a lower register on the last few words in a way that made Paul tingle with anticipation, and hope that Mary hadn't picked up on the obvious subtext.

“I think you're right. Mary, see you at work tomorrow.”

She winked and turned away with her sister and nephew. “See you.”

Paul turned in John's embrace and was met with a heated kiss that made his knees wobbly. After a long moment he pulled away and caught his breath. “What's gotten into you?”

“Don't be stupid.”

“No, really, you're going to have to spell it out for me.”

John sighed, and straightened slightly. “It's hard to articulate. But I felt … something, when you were holding the baby. Like I wanted it to be _our_ baby you were holding.”

“The logistics of that could be difficult.”

John gave him a lopsided smile. “I never said it was logical. It was just a feeling.”

Heat was uncurling deep in Paul's belly, and he took John's hand. “Let's go home. I know what we can do about that feeling, but we can't do it here.”

Paul didn't think they'd ever walked quite so fast, and by the time they made it up to their flat things were getting a little hazy. Somehow they took off their coats and shoes and made it into the bedroom, where their clothing quickly found the floor and they collapsed onto the bed, tangled up in one another, acting and responding and loving without any need for thought.

A little click of a bottle opening let Paul's conscious mind surface for a moment. He held himself up on outstretched arms and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as John reached between his own legs with a slippery hand and began fingering himself roughly, panting and moaning and finally cracking his eyes open to look up at his partner. “Enjoying the show?”

“Fuck, yes.” He was almost embarrassed at how breathy his voice was. “God, you're indecent.”

“Mmm.” John's voice dropped yet another register, and his fingers moved faster. “You do this to me, Paul. I've never _wanted_ anyone like I want you.”

Paul grabbed his wrist, stilling the motions, and slowly pulled it away. He let the hand fall on the mattress beside John's head, where his tousled curls were spread out like a halo on the pillow case. He slicked a generous amount of lube onto his cock, and leaned down on his elbow so that his face and John's were only a breath apart. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“Anything.” He nudged at John's entrance. “I don't care. Anything.”

“You,” he murmured. “You are … you're everything."

Paul leaned his head down, touching their foreheads, and pressed inside. He felt that maybe he should say something, but words were clearly not going to happen. He trembled as he sank in, and wasn't sure why.

John's arms were around his back, stroking soothingly, and one long leg on his bottom pulled him in and held him close. “Oh Paul.” Luckily, John's words rarely failed him. “I can't … I can't believe I actually have you.”

Paul thrust gently into him, bowing his back and letting out a grunt and a sigh.

“You're so … I don't know what you are. The way you touch me, the way you make me feel. Like … like nothing else matters. Like nothing else has ever mattered before you.”

Paul kissed him then, desperate not just for the sensuality of the contact but because he needed John, needed _all_ of John, wanted to pour his very life into the gorgeous man below him. John responded hungrily, kissing like he was drowning and rocking their bodies together. His words unravelled into moans and gasps as they met over and over, giving and taking pleasure in equal part. They both hovered on the edge for a long time, as though they didn't want to reach orgasm, didn't want their joining to end.

But nothing could last forever. John came first, shaking and crying out and clinging to Paul, who followed only a minute later. They lay together for a long time, breathing heavily and holding one another, and finally kissing again, lazily, until John made an uncomfortable noise and Paul shifted off to one side. “Sorry I was crushing you.”

“You weren't crushing me. And it was nice.” He rolled onto his side and stroked Paul's cheek. “I'd let you lie on top of me forever.”

Paul smiled. “That's very romantic, but I don't think it's practical.”

“Practicality is overrated.” He moved closer until their noses touched, then kissed him sweetly, a series of tiny tastes, until exhaustion won out and they fell asleep.

 

2259.47

John's communicator chimed loudly, jerking him awake and making Paul mumble unhappily. John pressed a kiss to the bit of Paul that was most convenient – the centre of his chest, right over his heart – before carefully untangling himself and grabbing the device. The window was still dark, and the clock showed 3:24 as he read the message.

_Priority urgent._ This was what he had been waiting for ever since he had discovered the cargo bay months ago, his opportunity to finally get his brothers and sisters to safety.

Paul rolled over and blinked half awake as he got out of bed. “What's going on?”

“Work. I have to go.”

“Right now?”

He paused in pulling his pants on, and rested briefly on the bed. “I'm sorry.” He kissed Paul's temple. “It really can't wait, I have to get there as fast as I can.”

“Stay.” Paul caught the back of his neck and pulled him into another kiss, that was at first sweet but grew into one that left John gasping when he finally broke away, and more than half tempted to abandon his mission entirely.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I wish I could. But I won't be long, I promise.”

“Two days?”

“Three at most.”

Paul sighed. “All right. Be careful.”

John's heart fluttered. If he only knew. “I will. And I'll call you when I get a chance.”

Paul's breathing slowed with sleep as John finished dressing and stuffed a change of clothes into his bag. He leaned over the bed again, smoothing his lover's hair. “I'm off now.”

“Hm. Okay.”

He paused. “I love you.”

A tiny quirk took the corner of his mouth into a sleepy smile. “Love you too.”


	12. Beginnings, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers: Thank you so much for sticking this out with me, and for being patient when I was struggling with the hard parts of writing. I hope that you've enjoyed this, and I hope this last part doesn't break your hearts too terribly. I've toyed with the possibility of writing an alternate ending, but I'm not sure if that will happen.
> 
> If you have a minute at the end, please leave me a comment! Hearing from you is the only payment I get, and I cherish every single one, no matter how short.
> 
> [There is theme music for this chapter.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9nJspo7yKo)  
> I recommend you open YouTube in another tab while you read, unless you think an emotional intensifier would make it too much.

2259.48

John's frantic work was interrupted by a chime at the door and the appearance of an ensign. “Commander Harrison, Sir, there's a call for you.”

“Not now!” he shouted, rounding on the man. “Not now! Tell them to wait.”

“I'm afraid it can't wait, Sir. It's an urgent call, or it wouldn't have been able to reach you here at all.”

That made John pause. “Who is it?”

“A Mrs Emily Hudson, calling on behalf of the London Metropolitan Police.”

John felt his hands begin to shake. “Patch it through. I'll take it here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

In moments the low-resolution image appeared on his screen and he saw Mrs Hudson in the office of Paul's superintendent, her face streaked with tears. “What is it? What's happened?”

“John, I'm so sorry,” she said, on the verge of crying again. “It's your Paul. He's … he's dead.”

John's heart stopped, then restarted with a surge. “No. No! How? How did this happen?”

She shook her head. “There's an investigation ongoing, but there was a traffic accident. DI Morstan is in critical condition, and it looks like Paul was killed instantly. Blow to the head.” She dabbed at her eyes. “They … they want you to come and make decisions, since you're listed as his … well. How soon can you get home? They wouldn't tell me where you are.”

The blood was rushing in John's ears. “I … I don't know how soon I can get there. I need to talk to my commanding officer.”

“All right, love. Let me know.”

“I will.” He disconnected, and squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that were threatening to fall. For a few moments he let the emotions roll through himself unchecked, rage and fear and despair and the promise of horrible, consuming grief. But then he controlled himself, and wiped the moisture from his face, and went to Admiral Marcus.

The admiral looked up as he entered the _Vengeance's_ conference room. “Jesus, Harrison, what's going on? You look like hell.”

“I need to go back to London,” John said flatly. “There's been a death.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “A death?”

“Yes. My … my flatmate. I need to help make his final arrangements.” John's voice broke slightly on the last word, and anger surged through him again.

The admiral sighed. “Very well. You can take the beta shuttle back to official space, and do what you need to from there. I'll provide clearance.”

“Thank you, Sir.” He turned on his heel and left without being dismissed.

 

Seeing Paul's cold corpse was the worst moment of John's life. He was badly battered, but still recognizable. The sandy hair with bits of grey was matted with blood, and half of his face was bruised and swollen, even in death. His body – that beautiful body, the body that loved him in ways he hadn't known before, hadn't even _imagined_ – was broken. A casualty of what the Met were calling a software fault in the traffic control grid.

He touched him, the side of his face, his intact shoulder, trailing warm fingers down to a chilled elbow, the spot where Paul loved to be kissed when John interrupted his work at the kitchen table.

“No, no, no, no." The words came without prompting, unwelcome. "Paul, please, no ...”

It was gruesomely real. This was all that was left of his best friend, his lover, the man with whom he had been prepared to spend his entire life. Just a body, lifeless and dull, nothing like the vibrant person he had been only days before. He'd heard people describe their deceased loved ones as looking like they were only sleeping. Paul didn't look like he was asleep. He was destroyed, he was gone, he was _dead_ with a finality that could have torn John's heart from his chest.

Dr Hooper said nothing as John quietly broke down in her morgue.

He didn't know how much time passed, but eventually no more tears would fall, his throat ached with every breath he drew, and he knew that his life would never be the same. Commander John Harrison, flatmate/friend/lover/husband-to-be, had died with DI Paul Watson.

He was a new man. Or, rather, an old man again. With John Harrison dead on a slab, he was again William Pitt III, the man he'd been bred to be, part of the greatest leadership the world had yet to know, and he would _never_ lose another member of his family. His seventy-two brothers and sisters needed him, and he would ensure their safety by any means necessary.

William walked out of the morgue without a word to the timid pathologist who had watched his transformation and not understood it.

 

When he got back to the flat, there was a message on his comm from Admiral Marcus. He went into the bedroom ( _their bedroom_ ) and curled up on the bed as the message played.

_Harrison, you sentimental idiot. When did you get so fucking soft? I knew something was up with you, but I didn't think you'd gone and actually fallen in love with some man you happened to shack up with. Got himself killed in a traffic accident, huh? Certainly not worthy of the likes of you and your kind._

Tears welled in William's eyes as he buried his face in Paul's pillow, and he couldn't have said whether they were from grief, embarrassment, or anger.

_But anyway, I'm not calling to gloat. Not about that, anyway. That was just a disappointment. But this betrayal of yours? You had to know I'd find out. Nothing happens in Section 31 without me knowing, and I have to give you credit, you did a good job. But it wasn't good enough. I guess you left in too much of a rush to cover your tracks completely like you did before. I know you swapped the torpedo warheads for your precious crew. Well guess what? They're mine now, and as punishment for your betrayal, every one of them will die._

The recording ended. William stayed still in the bed for hours, but he didn't sleep. Everyone he loved was gone now, Paul the victim of a preventable accident, and his brothers and sisters by the idiotic ambitions of the admiral.

How could one move on, after having loved so deeply? His heart had once been filled with warmth but everything that gave it that had been torn away, leaving an empty shell inside his chest. The edges of the wound wept, and from that grief grew rage. As the evening went on, a chill came over him and through him, pervasive. What did one do, after having lost everything?

The answer came too easily: Revenge. On Marcus, on Starfleet, on the entire Federation if need be. No one alive could possibly stop him now. He would avenge Paul. He would avenge his crew. The world would pay for their deaths. And to cap it off, he would assume the mantle of his beloved brother, his captain, Khan Noonien Singh. Even centuries later that name still held weight, still impressed fear upon those who heard it. He would take his vengeance in Khan's name, to honour his legacy that now could never be.

 

It was simple enough – a matter of less than a week – to find Thomas Harewood, and even simpler to convince him to play along. He knew what a man would be willing to do to save the life of the one who held his heart, and Harewood was no disappointment. He drew his own blood in the laboratory in the upstairs bedroom, and prepared the detonator.

He no longer loved London. He was ready to see her burn.


End file.
